Dawn
by alohamora080
Summary: The seventh year was the dawn of a new era.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

"Tell me the truth."

Lily let the phrase waft through her brain, her eyebrows furrowing vaguely.

The truth.

What was the truth? The truth was that Lily was currently crouched under a grimy, old bed in the Shrieking Shack, a wand pointed at her forehead. The truth was that, somewhere in Scotland, a group of cloaked men were running amok, blasting open windows and shooting jets of green light into the hearts of innocent men and women. The truth was that James Potter had not been seen since the twenty-seventh of March, that Mary Macdonald was in love with the wrong man, and that the one woman Lily had loved more than life itself was now dead.

The truth was fuzzy, and, even if her half-conscious state, Lily knew that none of these things mattered to the hooded finger in front of her. The man in front of her wanted more than the truth. The man in front of her wanted her life.

Lily opened her chapped, bloody lips, and inhaled sharply. "I can't," she whispered.

"What?" demanded the man. There was a loud shuffling sound, and, suddenly, the man had crouched down in front of her. Lily blinked, groaning softly as he grabbed the hem of her blouse's collar and pulled her forward so that his dark eyes were only a couple inches away from her green ones. "What did you say?"

Lily's eyes were beginning to droop. The pain in her chest sharpened suddenly.

The man shook her collar, and, when he spoke, Lily was pleased to hear a ringing note of panic in his voice. "Stay awake!" he ordered gruffly. "And, tell me the truth, or I—I'll kill you!"

Lily half-smiled, head rolling backwards. "I can't," she repeated.

"You can't tell me the truth?" he growled. There was a sudden flash of white, and the pain in Lily's chest burned and ripped through her body. "You _can't_ tell me the truth?" he repeated.

"No," Lily said simply. She was struggling to stay conscious now. The pain had enveloped her completely. The familiar flashes of white and green mingled with her vision. She frowned, shakily reaching forward and brushing the man's cheek. He jerked away, glaring fiercely. "The truth is mine."

The man screamed.

And, then, everything went black.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

* * *

It was the first time she had ever come to Kings Cross by herself. But, she was seventeen years old now, and she had an apparition license, and she was all grown up, so what was stopping her from darting into the barrier that separated Platform Nine from Platform Ten?

Lily bit her lip, glancing around. The Muggles were oblivious, as they always were. Once or twice, someone would peer disapprovingly into the the cat carrier she had propped up in her trolley as he or she walked by, but, otherwise, no one paid much attention to the copper-haired girl standing alone at the edge of station. Sighing, Lily tightened her grip on her trolley, and pushed it forward slowly, coming to a standstill just a few feet away from the metal wall.

Lily's mind wandered vaguely to her house's cozy, little sitting room. She could almost imagine the scene that was taking place, at the moment. Her mother would be pacing the carpet flooring by now, her sister was likely perched sourly at the edge of her plushy armchair by the fireplace, and Vernon Dursley's eyes would have diluted with terror by now, as Lily's mother explained to him the existence of the one thing that he hated more than anything else in the world: magic.

They had all—Petunia, too, albeit reluctantly—agreed that it was high time to alert Petunia's fiancé to the deepest secret of the Evans family. And, Lily had agreed to be conspicuously absent, upon Petunia's embittered request.

So, now, she was standing alone in the station, distractedly fingering her golden Head Girl badge and blankly watching a lone spider crawl up the barrier's metal plating.

* * *

"No."

"What do you mean '_no_?'"

"I mean, _no_!"

"It was Snivellus, I know it! He hexed me, Prongs!"

"And, it's only the first day of school! Can't we wait a couple of weeks for our first detention?" demanded James Potter, crossing his arms and glaring fiercely at his black-haired companion.

Most people would have would have fled at the sight of James looking so angry. Most people would have muttered a hasty apology, and scurried away. But, Sirius Black wasn't most people. He simply folded his arms across his chest and glowered back at his friend, equally furious.

There was a moment of charged silence.

Then— "Prongs," Sirius began slowly.

James Potter narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Is everything—is everything all right…you know…between you and your dad?" asked Sirius hesitantly. He was watching his friend closely for signs of comprehension, or distress. For the past few days, James had been acting rather strangely, thought Sirius. Sirius didn't live with the Potters anymore, so for all he knew, he was imagining it all. But, there had definitely been something off with James, lately.

James's eyes narrowed, if possible, further. "Excuse me?" he asked coolly.

Sirius did not break eye contact. "You've been acting a little odd," he said cautiously. "Has everything been all right at home, since…your mum passed aw—?"

James inhaled sharply, and Sirius broke off, taking a step backwards. Sirius saw James's hand twitch towards his wand, and he swallowed, expecting the worst. But, with one last glower in Sirius's direction, James pushed roughly past him and stalked down the corridor.

Sirius watched him go. Then, he turned around, sighing helplessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Severus Snape duck into a nearby corridor.

He drew his wand.

* * *

"I _miss_ him," lamented Alice Blishwick, as she collapsed into the corner of the compartment she and Mary Macdonald had just occupied. "I can't imagine not being in school with him. It's going to be so different!"

"_He_ did it for a year," pointed out Mary, raising her eyebrows at her friend from across the compartment, where she was sprawled lazily across the seat. "So, now, it's your turn."

"Frank was eleven at the time," snapped Alice. Then, she sighed, softening her expression. "I'm sorry, Mary, I didn't mean to bite—I—I just miss—"

"I know you miss him, Al," interrupted Mary patiently. "But, it'll only be a year, you know. Besides, Frank's got a great job at the Ministry, as an _auror_—"

"But, that's the problem!" wailed Alice, covering her face with her palms. "Mary, he's only on his first year of training, and they've already got him on all sorts of dangerous missions!"

"Well, these are dangerous times, Alice," said Mary darkly, with a significant look at her friend. She paused, considering Alice sympathetically. Truthfully, she didn't know how Alice felt. Frank and Alice had been together since his fourth year and her third year, and they'd been friends since they were children. Mary had never been a part of anything like that; she'd never loved a boy unconditionally, the way Alice did Frank. She'd had her fair share of boyfriends, but none had ever been of any _real_ significance to her. Mary hesitated, before continuing, "Don't worry about him, Al. Frank'll be fine…he's brilliant, you know that."

Alice bit her lip. Then, she exhaled gustily, propping her head up against the compartment window and closing her eyes.

* * *

"Lily?"

Lily swiveled. She staggered slightly, clutching onto her trolley for support as she stumbled forward several feet and nearly collided with a nearby rubbish can. Then, she caught sight of the spiky, raven-haired witch in front of her.

"Dorcas!" she cried happily, running forward and hugging her.

"How long have you been waiting out here?" asked Dorcas, as the two broke apart a moment later. She too was manning a trolley, but, unlike Lily who was already decked out in her Hogwarts uniform, Dorcas was dressed simply in muggle shorts and a Weird Sisters' t-shirt. "Is there a problem with a barrier or something?" she asked, glancing curiously over Lily's shoulder at the metal barrier which separated Platforms Nine and Ten.

"Oh, no," Lily said quickly, straightening her shoulders. "I—I guess I just dozed off, that's all."

Dorcas gave her a fleetingly suspicious look. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, scooting around Lily towards the barrier. In a flash, she had disappeared. Lily gazed at the spot; then, sighing, she too slipped forward and vanished into the metal paneling.

Dorcas was waiting for Lily when she red-haired girl finally darted into the buzzing throng at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. She gave Lily a crooked grin. "Worried you got lost or something," she joked, shaking her head. Then, her eyes flickered to the Head Girl badge hanging off of Lily's cloak. "I knew you'd get that," she said appreciatively. "Better you than Addison, right?"

Lily forced a laugh.

Cecilia Addison was one of the five girls Lily shared a dormitory with, and she was easily the least popular. She was outstandingly brilliant in her classes, and rather attractive, but Lily didn't think she had ever met anyone who infuriated her more than Cecilia Addison did. Everything from her affected, tinkling laugh and her high-and-mighty demeanor repelled Lily thoroughly.

But, at the moment, with her mind still humming with thoughts of Vernon Dursley's reaction to her true identity, Lily was quite oblivious to all other thoughts, Cecilia Addison included.

"Shall we find our compartment, then?" asked Dorcas, as she lead Lily past a pack of giggling second year girls and towards the Hogwarts Express. "Alice and Mary'll probably be here already."

"I can't," said Lily, with an apologetic smile. "I've got to get to the Prefects' carriage and talk to that lot."

"Oh," nodded Dorcas. "Well, we'll see you after that, won't we?"

"Of course," said Lily warmly.

Dorcas grinned. Then, quite abruptly, she stood up straighter, as though a thought had suddenly occurred to her. "Hey, Lils, who's taken your place as seventh year Gryffindor prefect, now that you're Head Girl?"

"Dunno," shrugged Lily. "It wasn't in my letter." She paused for a moment, rather curious herself. "It might be Marlene. She's definitely smart enough."

"Nah," Dorcas shook her head. "Marlene's too…quiet to be a prefect." Suddenly, she gasped, looking horrified. "Wait a minute—you don't think it's _her_, do you?"

Lily frowned confusedly. Then, she gaped, as realization struck. "Oh, _no_," she moaned, although she was fairly certain Dorcas was right. "Cecilia."

Dorcas wrinkled her nose. "She's a prig, that Cecilia Addison." Dorcas leaned closer, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. "But, I heard from Liz Purkiss yesterday that Cecilia's gotten herself a boyfriend, this year. Might be good for the old prude to loosen up a bit, don't you think?"

Lily laughed in spite of everything.

* * *

Severus Snape was an excellent camouflager, thought Sirius to himself, as his gaze flickered around the corridor Severus had just vanished into. Narrowing his eyes, Sirius revolved slowly on the spot, massaging his still-stinging wrist, where Severus had hexed it, earlier that afternoon.

Frowning, Sirius made his way down the corridor, eyes peeled for signs of Severus. In the back of his mind, Sirius felt vaguely guilty for ignoring James's warning about getting into trouble so early in the school year. But, Severus _had_ hexed him. And, attacking Sirius Black in the middle of a crowded train most certainly came with punishment.

Sirius pushed his way past the usual groups of first and second year students that were clustered in front of compartments, laughing and talking loudly. Near the center of the crowd, two sixth year Ravenclaws—Dirk Cresswell and John McKinnon—were entertaining a group of their friends with a story about their recent encounter with a Muggle motorcycle. Sirius made a mental note to ask them about it later.

Sirius had reached the end of the corridor. And, Severus Snape was nowhere to be found.

Sighing in frustration, Sirius spun around and began marching up the corridor once again. He glanced outside of a nearby window. A very familiar, red-haired girl was unsuccessfully attempting to lug her heavy trunk out of her trolley and onto the train.

Sirius watched her, his lips twisting into an amused smirk.

* * *

Marlene Cresswell frowned to herself as she stumbled past rows and rows of compartments, all filled with unfamiliar faces. She had paced the entire train for the past half hour, but she had not caught even the slightest glimpse of Alice or Mary. Marlene paused mid-step, gazing uncomfortably around at the crowded train corridor. She suddenly wished she was invisible. Then, she would be able to curl into a tight ball in the corner of the train, and no one would be able to see her.

Marlene didn't really like people.

Well, she supposed that wasn't _altogether_ true.

She liked Lily. Lily was her friend. Lily was nice to her, and she didn't make Marlene uncomfortable, the way some of the other students did.

And, Marlene supposed her roommates—Mary Macdonald, and Alice Blishwick, and Dorcas Meadowes—were all rather pleasant, as well.

But, usually, Marlene didn't like people. She didn't like talking to people. She didn't like the pressure of having to carry on a conversation. She much preferred the silence.

Biting her lip, Marlene toyed briefly with the idea of casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself, but she decided against it. After all, Lily was always going on about how hiding was never answer; Marlene doubted Lily would approve of a Disillusionment Charm.

Sighing, she turned around and began pacing blindly up the corridor once again. Alice and Mary were definitely around here, somewhere—

"Ouch!" she cried suddenly, arms splaying, as she collided with something tall and warm, knocking her to the ground.

Blinking in bewilderment, she looked up.

Her younger brother's best friend, John McKinnon, was standing in front of her, looking profusely apologetic.

"Are you all right?" he asked ruefully, holding out a hand to pull her up to her feet. "Sorry, Marlene, I guess I wasn't looking…"

Marlene felt her face flush with embarrassment as she glanced from his outstretched arm to his friendly expression. It had been her fault entirely, of course, and not his. But, Marlene was too ashamed to admit it. She couldn't say a word. She couldn't talk to John McKinnon. Her voice had died in her throat, as it always did when she saw…_people_.

Ignoring John's hand, Marlene clambered to her feet, and flew down the corridor, suddenly wishing she _had_ performed that Disillusionment Charm, after all.

* * *

Sweeping her slightly sweaty fringe out of her eyes, Lily snatched at the brass handle of her trunk, grunting slightly as she attempted to heave it out down the platform.

"Good afternoon, her Headship."

Lily swiveled around, coming face-to-face with a pair of striking gray eyes. She groaned. "Oh, Merlin."

"Actually, my name's Sirius," said the familiar young man seriously, but Lily didn't miss the glimmer of amusement in his expression. "Merlin died centuries ago, Lily. Where've you been?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well, I see nothing's changed," she said calmly. "You're an annoying little berk, as always."

Sirius ignored her.

"So, Head Girl, eh?" he pressed, grinning. "That's supposed to be a lot of responsibility."

"Hard for you to comprehend, isn't it?" asked Lily dryly. "I don't suppose you and responsibility have a lot in common."

"No, I can't say we do," said Sirius, scratching his chin mock-thoughtfully.

Lily shook her head, exasperated. "Why are you even speaking to me?" she asked him suspiciously. "Potter didn't send you here, did he?"

"Nah," scoffed Sirius. "Last I saw him, James was confiscating a Fanged Frisbee from a bunch of ickle third years—they nearly took his eye out," added Sirius, sniggering softly.

Lily raised her eyebrows, vaguely surprised. She didn't know what was more bizarre: the fact that Sirius Black was conversing with her for no apparent reason, or the fact James Potter—_James Potter_, of all people—had confiscated a Zonko's item from a younger student.

She shook her head, pushing the peculiarity away from her mind. Glancing at her watch, Lily realized it was ten minutes to eleven. The train was going to leave in ten minutes, and Lily had not yet reached the Prefects' carriage. Eyes widening slightly, she hastily returned to her inefficient attempt to drag her trunk down the Platform and towards the scarlet steam engine.

Sirius watched her, eyebrows arching. "Er—need some help, there, Evans?" he asked her. His tone was half-incredulous, half-amused.

"Actually, Black, I'm _fine_—"

But—"Moony!" Sirius was already waving to someone in the throng. "Come lend me a hand with this, will you?"

The crowd parted momentarily, and a tall, thin, brown-haired man approached them, massaging his lined forehead. Lily frowned, noticing, with a pang of distress, the purplish bags that encompassed his eyes. Remus always looked quite exhausted for a teenage boy. It was saddening. Lily wondered whether his mother was still ill.

Remus grimaced at Sirius. "What do you want?" he asked wearily. Then, his gaze fell on Lily. "Oh—hello, Lily," he greeted her happily. "How was your summer?"

Lily and Remus had grown to be rather good friends over the past two years, as the two Gryffindor Prefects in their year. He had confided in her about his ailing mother, and the gravity of why he left school once a month to visit her. Lily, in return, had told him all about the untimely death of her father, as well as the damaged relationship between herself and her elder sister.

"It was excellent, thank you, Remus," Lily answered, returning his kind smile.

Sirius glanced between them, snorting loudly. "All right, well, if you two grandparents are done exchanging posh pleasantries, _maybe_ you'd like to help me with this." He looked pointedly at Remus, gesturing to Lily's trunk.

Lily rounded on Sirius, glaring. "Look, Black, I _told_ you I didn't need any help with that—!"

But, neither boy paid her any heed. In one fluid motion, her trunk was lifted into the air and carried into the train. Lily watched them go, mouth slightly open. Then, she shook herself, darting in after them.

"Where do you want this, anyway, Evans?" Sirius asked her, as he and Remus placed the trunk in the middle of the train's crowded corridor.

"Er—" Lily glanced at her watch. "Well, I need to meet with the prefects in a couple minutes, so could you maybe find Alice and leave it with her?" She turned to Remus, suddenly realizing something. "Which reminds me—Remus, why on Earth are you still wearing your Prefects' insignia?"

Remus glanced quizzically down at his badge. "Was I not supposed to?"

Lily stared at him. "Haven't you gotten your Head Boy badge?"

"Merlin's beard!" Sirius let out an abrupt, dog-like bark of laughter, grinning at Remus. "She doesn't know yet!"

Remus smiled and shook his head. "I guess she hasn't heard."

"What?" Lily demanded, looking indignantly from Sirius to Remus. "What don't I know?"

"Remus isn't Head Boy," Sirius informed her, now grinning hugely.

Lily quirked an eyebrow, skeptical. "Who—?" she stopped short, eyes widening, as she caught sight of something outside the train window behind Remus's shoulder.

James Potter was leaning against the wrought-iron archway that separated Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from King's Cross Station, laughing with Cecilia Addison. And, as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, Lily saw a very familiar glint of golden near his cloak.

* * *

"Marlene?" asked Mary urgently, sitting up suddenly in her seat and starling Alice out of her haphazard slumber, in the process. Marlene Cresswell had just entered the compartment, her shoulders trembling and her pale face twisted into a horrified grimace. "Are you all right?"

Shaking her head rapidly, Marlene sunk down onto the compartment floor and pulled her knees up to her chest. Mary exchanged an alarmed look with Alice.

Mary had always known Marlene Cresswell to be a little odd. In fact, Mary doubted she and Marlene would have ever become friends, if it hadn't been for Lily. Lily had been the one to drag Marlene out of her recluse, anxiety-driven bubble, and prod around in her habitually affectionate manner, until the quiet girl had finally uttered a syllable.

Mary considered Marlene worriedly. The girl had begun rocking unsteadily back-and-forth, knees still clamped to her chest like a shield.

Taking a deep breath, Mary tried again, "Marlene?"

But, before Marlene could utter a word, the compartment door swung open and Dorcas Meadowes stalked inside, grumbling loudly. Rolling her eyes at nothing in particular, Dorcas slammed the compartment door shut and fell upon the threshold, glaring.

Mary raised an eyebrow, forgetting momentarily about Marlene. "What was _that _about?"

"You'll never believe who the new, seventh year Gryffindor prefect girl is," she snapped.

"Who?" asked Alice.

"Cecilia Addison," said Dorcas resentfully, flinging herself down onto the compartment bench beside Alice.

Mary clapped a hand to her forehead, groaning. "You're _joking_!"

"Nope," Dorcas shook her head, looking positively livid. "I've just seen her. She's got the badge, and everything." She paused, crossing her arms. "Like she wasn't bad enough to begin with, now they've gone and given her a _badge_ to go along with it!"

Alice sighed. "We're in for a rough year, aren't we?"

Dorcas nodded fervently. "But, that's not all," she told them in a low voice, and Mary looked up, startled by the sudden change in Dorcas' tone. "By the looks of it, Cecilia Addison's gotten herself a boyfriend, as well."

"What?" cried Mary, now incredulous. "_Who_?"

"James Potter."

A ringing silence met Dorcas's words. Mary felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead. She glanced at Alice; the round-faced girl's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"That," Mary said slowly, after several moments of utter quietude, "is probably the most idiotic thing James Potter has _ever_ done." She shook her head, still in disbelief. "Don't you agree, Marlene?" added Mary, realizing suddenly that the fair-haired girl had yet to say a word.

Silence.

Frowning, Mary stared around the compartment. Her eyes widened. Marlene had disappeared.

* * *

Lily stared. Then, she shook herself, taking a closer look. The whole thing looked so positively ridiculous. Lily watched, eyebrows raised, as James's arm snaked skillfully around Cecilia's waist, tugging her towards him. Lily grimaced in disgust, eyes instinctively snapping back to the gold badge hanging from James's cloak. She blinked rapidly, unable to believe her eyes.

"That's not…" she began weakly.

"It is," Sirius laughed. "Pity you had to find out this way, though."

Lily gaped in disbelief. "How exactly—why—I mean—who in their _right mind_ would make _Potter_ the Head Boy?"

"Believe me, I spent most of the summer wondering the same thing," Sirius told her, smirking out the window at James, who now had Cecilia Addison pressed against the archway, his lips flush against hers. "But, I suppose he _has_ deflated his head."

"I…" Lily trailed off in amazement, finally managing to peel her eyes away from the absurdity before her. She looked at Remus, who was sporting an amused half-smile. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said quickly, exchanging a fleeting glance with Sirius. "Er—shall we go, then?"

"Where?" Lily asked distractedly, her eyes once again flickering to the window.

"The Prefects' meeting," Remus explained patiently.

Lily jumped. "Oh—yes! I—of course—sorry—"

Sirius sniggered under his breath as he hauled Lily's trunk down the corridor; Lily glared at his retreating figure.

"So," she began casually, as she and Remus started in the opposite direction, towards the Prefects' carriage. "James and Cecilia? I didn't realize they were an item. What's going on between them?"

"Oh, I don't know," Remus said, shrugging noncommittally. "He wrote to her loads over the summer." His gaze met hers. "Why?"

"No reason," Lily said brusquely, as the two of them reached the compartment. "Just wondering, that's all." She reached out and nudged the glass door open, ushering Remus inside before stepping in herself.

The Prefects were all talking excitedly, and Lily found herself feeling a little self-conscious as she moved to the head of the compartment and began counting heads. After a little while, she cleared her throat. Immediately, the room quietened.

Taking a deep breath, Lily announced, brows furrowing, "There seems to be two of us missing. Does anyone know who they are?" Lily looked around at the Prefects.

It was several moments before Remus spoke, voice hesitant, "Er—it's James and Cecilia. They—they aren't here, yet."

* * *

Marlene hurtled down the corridor, panting heavily as she rocketed into the nearby washroom and snapped the lock shut behind her. Gasping for breath, Marlene swung around and clutched the sides of the sink, hunching over the faucet.

This was a horrible day, she thought, as she raised her head and gazed at her pale-faced reflection in the mirror.

Not only had she been forced into close contact with her brother's best friend, but, now, Cecilia Addison was a Prefect.

Marlene's eyes widened. Cecilia Addison was a Prefect.

Marlene let the thought waft through her brain for several, excruciating moments before she groaned, leaning back against the bathroom wall and clutching at her hair.

If Marlene disliked people, then Cecilia Addison was the Devil, in Marlene's eyes. The two had been at odds ever since their first year at Hogwarts, during which Cecilia had nastily proceeded to hurl taunts and insults at Marlene until the latter had resorted to hiding out in her dormitory during her free time. Indeed, Marlene had been too afraid to leave her four-poster bed for weeks. She had even contemplated asking Professor Dumbledore if she could leave Hogwarts. That was, until, Lily Evans had so kindly intervened.

Lily Evans had—in Marlene's eyes, at least—saved her. Lily had been to the one to shoo away the Cecilia Addisons of the universe, keeping Marlene safely tucked under her wing, all the while.

But, now, Cecilia was a Prefect.

Cecilia could dock points from anyone she pleased.

Cecilia had the authority.

Blinking back tears, Marlene sank to the ground for the second time that day and buried her face in her palms.

* * *

Lily gazed at Remus, unsure of how to respond.

Meanwhile, there was an outbreak of giggles from the Ravenclaw prefects.

"_I_ know where James and Cecilia are," piped up Elizabeth Purkiss, a sixth year. Her full, pink lips had twisted into an jeering smile. "Last I saw, they were—"

As if on cue, there was a BANG, and the compartment door flew open, revealing James and Cecilia, both of whom looked slightly disheveled. Tufts of Cecilia's golden hair were sticking out of her hairdo, and the collar of James's robes was oddly ruffled. Lily's eyes narrowed, ever-so-slightly, just as a fresh volley of laughter stemmed from the watching Ravenclaws.

Rotating slowly back around to the front of the compartment, Lily watched disdainfully as Cecilia delicately took a seat between Remus and Elizabeth Purkiss. As Cecilia sat down, Elizabeth leaned over and whispered something in her ear, causing both girls to turn and giggle at James. James puffed his chest out, looking very pleased with himself.

Lily rolled her eyes.

Then, clearing her throat once again, she continued, voice hardening slightly, "Welcome, all, to a new year of Prefect duties and responsibilities. I'm your Head Girl, Lily Evans." She paused, glancing sideways at James. He, however, appeared to be quite preoccupied with picking listlessly at his Head Boy badge, so Lily continued, annoyed, "Those of you who are here for your second or third year of Prefect duties, I'm sure you know the drill. Those of you who are here for the first time, please understand that you and your fellow Prefects are required to conduct two two-hour rounds of patrols a week.

"Schedules will be given to all of you later this week, along with some basic guidelines. Remember, misuse of your title as a Prefect will be met with punishment," Lily explained evenly, glancing from one face to the next. Her gazed rested momentarily on Cecilia. "So I advise you _all_ to toe the line."

Lily glanced at James once again. He was now surveying her appraisingly, his eyebrows arched. Lily quickly looked away.

"All right, I believe that's all. Everyone, please patrol the train corridors for at least fifteen minutes! Have a good year, everyone, and don't forget to check back with us for your common rooms' passwords before the feast!" she informed them, raising her voice slightly above the hustle and bustle of the Prefects making their way out of the compartment, one by one.

James made to follow them, but Lily stepped in his way. "Actually, Potter, I need a quick word."

He froze, frowning. But, he did not argue.

Lily waited for the compartment to empty completely. Remus left last, smiling warmly at both Lily and James before leaving. Then, before Lily knew quite what was happening, she had slammed the door shut and rounded on James, glaring.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded._  
_

James started slightly in surprise. "What—?"

"Look, I don't know what Dumbledore and McGonagall were thinking when they decided to make _you_ Head Boy, but I expect you to take responsibility and do your part!" she exclaimed angrily, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"I _am_ doing my part!" argued James, flaring up.

Lily snorted in derision, and James rolled his eyes. "Well, is that all?" he demanded. "Can I leave now, your Highness?"

"One more thing," snapped Lily, glowering at James. "I'm not sure what's going on between you and Cecilia—and, frankly, I couldn't care less—but I am not going to put up with it if she distracts you from your responsibilities as Head Boy."

"Distracts me?" barked James, evidently incredulous.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," said Lily sharply, "but I believe the reason you were late to the meeting is because you were a little too…caught up—with _her_!"

"You know what I think, Evans?" James said, voice suddenly quiet. His eyes glinted dangerously. "I think you've been single for too long. You haven't had a date in—what? Two years? I think you might be a little jealous."

Lily stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, before letting out a cry of frustration. Quickly, she gathered up her cloak, and swept away.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

* * *

"Prongs."

"March twenty-seventh."

"Padfoot."

"November eighth."

"Me."

"February twentieth."

"Er—you?"

"Really, Wormtail?" Remus shook his head, amused. "I'm pretty sure I know my own birthday. March tenth."

"Wow." Peter Pettigrew leaned back against his seat in the compartment he was currently sharing with Sirius and Remus, looking rather impressed. "How do you remember all of this?"

"Oh, please," scoffed Sirius, leaning forward and fixing Remus with an intent gaze. "You've only asked him _our_ birthdays. Of course he knows those. Let's make it a little harder, shall we?"

"Go ahead," Remus said calmly, linking his hands together on his lap and smiling slightly.

"All right," Sirius grinned. "Let's start with…my dear brother, Regulus."

"October third."

Sirius arched a brow. "All right. Lily Evans."

"January thirtieth."

"Mary Macdonald."

"September twenty-fifth."

"Andromeda Tonks."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Your cousin?"

"Ha!" Sirius grinned, looking jubilant. "I knew I'd stump you—!"

"May twenty-fourth."

Sirius blinked, evidently astonished. Then, he shook his head, climbing to his feet. "Professor McGonagall," he said loudly, crossing his arms and smirking haughtily down at Remus.

Remus gazed back at his friend, the smallest of smiles twitching at his lips. "Hmm…" Remus pretended to think deeply, rubbing his chin. Sirius straightened his shoulders, looking hopeful. Peter, meanwhile, was glancing from one boy to the next, eyes lit up with interest. "October…fourth."

Sirius's mouth fell open. "How in Merlin's name did _you_ know _that_—?"_  
_

BAM.

The compartment door flew aside, and all three inhabitants of the tiny space jumped wildly. Remus and Peter leaped to their feet, drawing their wands. Sirius, meanwhile, swiveled around, his wand already drawn and pointed at—

"Prongs?" Sirius demanded incredulously, lowering his wand. James Potter stood at the entrance to the compartment, his eyes wide and angry. Fists clenching, he kicked the compartment door closed, threw himself down beside Remus, and glared.

Remus exchanged a bewildered look with Sirius. Clearing his throat pointedly, he looked at James, eyebrows raised. "Prongs?" he asked softly. The untidy-haired boy turned to stare at his friend. "Are you all right?"

There was a pause.

Then—"She's just told me that I'm not acting like a Head Boy!" he blurted out angrily, crossing his arms. "She's just told me that I'm not responsible enough for the position—can you _believe_ that?"

"Who?" demanded Sirius, looking equally outraged. "Evans?"

"Yes," snapped James, gritting his teeth. He glanced around at his friends. "Where exactly does she get off, telling me I'm not good enough?"

There was a pregnant silence, punctuated only by the occasional lurching of the Hogwarts Express upon the train tracks. Remus knew that he, Sirius, and Peter were all thinking the same thing. Lily had every right to question James's competence. She was, after all, regularly near the top of their class, had been a Prefect since her fifth year, and was a role model to younger students. She had been the natural selection for Head Girl.

Whereas James—brilliant, and loyal, and charming as he was—certainly hadn't.

Remus coughed softly. They, all turned to look expectantly at him. James's eyes were still flashing lividly.

"No offense, Prongs," Remus said quietly. "But, you haven't exactly been the most ideal candidate for Head Boy, you know."

James made an indignant noise in his throat. "What's that supposed to mean?" he barked. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

Remus didn't even flinch. "I am on your side," he said calmly, sitting up a little straighter. "I think you deserve the position—believe me, I do." He paused, and James's expression softened slightly. "But, come off it, Prongs, you can't _honestly_ be surprised that Lily doesn't think you're good enough."

James stared at Remus for several moments. Then, he sighed, shrugging. "Guess not," he mumbled. "But, she didn't have to be so cruel about it," he added defensively.

"No, she didn't," agreed Peter, patting James's shoulder reassuringly. James smiled.

"So," Sirius said lightly, his lips twisting into a knowing smirk. "How's our lovely Cecilia doing?" he asked keenly, waggling his eyebrows.

James suddenly became very interested in the view outside the compartment window, and Remus laughed.

* * *

By the time Marlene Cresswell reemerged—finally dry-eyed—from the train's bathroom, nearly half-an-hour after she'd gone inside, a long and impatient cue of Hogwarts girls had formed outside the door. Many threw her dirty looks as she passed, and Marlene felt her stomach swoop as she walked quickly away from them and back towards the now-empty corridor. Sighing in relief, she turned at the corner and began striding towards the compartment Mary, Alice, and Dorcas were all currently occupying.

"Er—Mar?"

Marlene froze. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, coming face-to-face with a familiar sixth year Ravenclaw, who was poking his head out of his compartment door.

They looked strikingly alike. Both had the same pointed nose, chiseled cheekbones, and piercing amber eyes. Only their hair was different. While Marlene's was a soft, sunflower blonde, the boy's was a deep shade of burgundy.

"Dirk," Marlene said dully.

Dirk Cresswell surveyed his sister worriedly. "Are you all right?" he asked her finally.

"'Course," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her stance.

Dirk gazed at for a long moment. Then, he slipped completely out of his compartment and shut the door after him. "Are you sure?" he pressed, eyebrows furrowing with concern. "You're not having those weird panic attacks again, are you?"

Marlene's heartbeat sped up. "No," she breathed, taking a small step backwards. "Why…why would you think that?"

Dirk's frown deepened. "John said he ran into you earlier today…and, that you were acting a little…odd," he explained slowly. "Listen, Mar, you can tell me if you're having problems, okay? You know, I'm always here if you need…help."

Marlene felt her face heat up with embarrassment. Her younger brother was always there if she needed help. Something about the situation felt rather wrong to Marlene. Wasn't _she_ the one who was supposed to be there if _he_ needed help?

Heart still pounding slightly, Marlene shook her head. "I don't need any help," she said quickly. Ignoring the suspicious look on her brother's face, she continued, "And—er—tell John I'm sorry about earlier. I was in a hurry, that's all."

Dirk nodded, stepping back towards the compartment door. As if on cue, it slid open, and John McKinnon peeked out, his expression curious.

"There you are," he said to Dirk. "Come on, we're starting a game of Exploding Snap." Glancing over Dirk's shoulder, he caught sight of Marlene standing a few feet away, her arms clasped awkwardly behind her back.

He gave her a tentative grin. "Hey."

There was a pause.

Then, mustering up every last bit of her Gryffindor courage, Marlene smiled tightly. "Hi."

* * *

Severus Snape glanced sourly around his compartment. Ignus Mulciber and Derrick Avery were both slumped sluggishly across their seats, snoring loudly. An unattractive dollop of drool was dangling from the edge of Mulciber's mouth, and Severus gazed at it fleetingly, wrinkling his nose. Then, sighing, he looked away.

It had been a fairly dull and uneventful journey so far. He had managed to hex Sirius Black earlier that afternoon, and he'd gotten away with it, much to his surprise. Black usually never missed an opportunity to retaliate. He supposed Potter had intervened. Severus's lip curled at the very thought. He'd been unable to believe his ears when he'd gotten wind of the fact that James Potter was the new Head Boy.

James Potter. Head Boy.

Severus was fairly certain that those four words had absolutely no right to be used in the same sentence. He scoffed inwardly, shaking his head. Whatever had possessed Dumbledore to make Potter Head Boy, he would never, _ever_ understand.

But, in other news, James Potter had apparently begun dating that Gryffindor snob, Cecilia Addison. Severus didn't know Cecilia very well; he only vaguely remembered Lily complaining about her, back in their third or fourth year of Hogwarts.

He blinked. It seemed like such a long while ago.

"What's wrong with you?"

Severus jumped slightly in his seat, glancing around to find that Jarvis Wilkes—the fourth member of the compartment—was gazing appraisingly at him from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What do you mean?" Severus asked stiffly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I've watched at least fifty different emotions cross your face in the past ten minutes," Jarvis informed him, neatly folding up his newspaper and tossing it to the edge of his seat. He narrowed his eyes at Severus. "What's the matter with you today? You're acting really…skittish."

Severus hesitated. Privately, he felt that his inner musings were really was no business of Jarvis's, at all. But, then again, Jarvis had always been rather suspicious of Severus's loyalty to Slytherin House. He had disapproved most heavily of Severus's friendship with Lily, and he had almost considered cutting Severus out of their little Slytherin gang—that was, until Severus had called Lily the unforgivable, back in their fifth year.

So, deciding that he owed Jarvis some sort of a haphazard explanation, Severus drawled, "It's nothing…I was just wondering how that idiot Potter became Head Boy, that's all."

Jarvis Wilkes rolled his eyes. "Filthy blood traitors, the Potters are," he scoffed. "My father's always said that Charlus Potter was an arrogant, little imbecile." He paused, eyes flashing haughtily. "Clearly, his son takes after him."

Severus sniggered, and Jarvis straightened, looking rather pleased with himself. "Besides," he continued knowledgeably, "Dumbledore's always favored the Gryffindors, hasn't he? I mean, when was the last time we've had a Slytherin Head Boy? Not since Rodolphus Lestrange, himself, and that was nearly eight years ago!"

Severus nodded. Jarvis was, of course, absolutely right.

"Not that any of this will matter soon, anyway," Jarvis leaned closer to Severus, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know, once…once _he_ starts acting in the open…"

There was a lingering pause, during which Severus and Jarvis both gazed intently at each other. Severus's eyes flickered instinctively to the copy of the Daily Prophet Jarvis had just minutes earlier flung to the side of the compartment. The heading had read, 'HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED.'

Suddenly—"I've been writing to Lucius Malfoy," Jarvis muttered.

A thrill of excitement chased down Severus's spine. His eyes widened. "_What_?" he breathed.

"Yeah," Jarvis nodded importantly. "We've been in touch. Apparently…" he hesitated, considering Severus thoughtfully, as though he was contemplating whether or not Severus was worthy of the knowledge Jarvis was about to present him with. Eventually deeming that he was, Jarvis cleared his throat pointedly. "Apparently…_he's_ looking to…recruit."

Severus's mouth grew dry. "What did you tell him?" he asked quickly. "What did you tell Lucius?"

For the first time, the ghost of a smirk fluttered about Jarvis's mouth. "I told him," he said calmly, "that there are four Slytherin seventh years at Hogwarts this year who have sympathized with the Dark Lord's regime since they were children, and that if he's looking to recruit, he's come to exactly the right place."

Severus stared at Jarvis, his heart pounding. Then, his face split into a wide grin.

* * *

Lily Evans wandered aimlessly down the corridor, her head still buzzing with thoughts of James Potter and the peculiar argument they'd shared after the Prefects' meeting. She had yet to meet up with her friends. In fact, she hadn't even _seen_ Alice and Mary, yet. Lily bit her lip, feeling rather guilty. She had, after all, promised Dorcas to come straight to their usual compartment after the meeting was over.

But, it had been nearly an hour, and she still hadn't made an appearance.

She sighed, shaking her head. She needed to be alone, at the moment. She needed to organize her thoughts.

First, Vernon Dursley.

Vernon would certainly have finished hearing about Lily's secret by now, and Lily couldn't help but wonder how he'd taken the news. Would he have been as understanding as Petunia had hoped, or would he have done what Lily had secretly desired and called off the wedding, altogether? Lily felt a little remorseful for wishing such ill will upon her sister, but…

But, Petunia deserved so much better than Vernon Dursley. Because Petunia, despite all the animosity between the pair, was Lily's elder sister. She was Lily's family, and Lily knew that the grumpy, useless lump of a fiancé she had chosen for herself was a mistake. He was a _mistake_, Lily thought desperately, pausing momentarily in her tracks and rubbing her eyes. Why, oh _why_, couldn't Petunia see that?

Lily shook her head again. She had to focus. She had to clear her mind.

Second, James Potter.

Lily tugged subconsciously at a strand of her copper-colored hair.

James Potter was Head Boy.

It was a strange thought, she mused, that one of the most troublesome boys in her year had become Head Boy.

She supposed there was really no way to clear her mind of _that_.

No…

She would simply have to deal with it, as it came.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

* * *

Cecilia Addison was surveying herself closely in the train washroom's buffeted, old mirror.

Flicking a loose strand of her rich, golden-brown hair out of her eyes, Cecilia narrowed her eyes and frowned calculatingly at her reflection.

She sighed, biting her lip. There seemed to be something wrong with her face, this evening. Her nose looked a little off-center, she thought. Stepping closer to the mirror, Cecilia proceeded to lean so far over the sink that the tips of her long, lustrous eyelashes almost brushed the silvery glass.

Yes, it was _definitely_ off-center. Frowning, Cecilia cocked her head to the side, gazing into her own deep blue eyes. She wondered how she had never noticed it before. It was so obviously crooked. But, then again, Cecilia remembered, she had never really bothered to put so much effort into her appearance before. Of course, she'd done her hair and brushed her teeth…

But, that had been about the gist of it. Now, suddenly, Cecilia found herself paying very close attention to every little detail—every line, every freckle—on her face.

It was laborious work, certainly. But, Cecilia relished every minute of it.

Because for the first time in her life, she, Cecilia Anne Addison, had a boyfriend.

And, best of all, that boyfriend was James Potter.

Cecilia rubbed her nose absently as she tugged her cloak over her Hogwarts robes, and slipped out of the dingy, little washroom. She still found it rather incredible that James Potter had been interested in _her_, in the first place. She'd always rather liked him. Not _fancied_ him, of course. That had come later—over the summer, to be exact. But, Cecilia had always liked James Potter. There was something about him she—well, everyone, really—couldn't help but admire.

Except Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, Cecilia thought haughtily, had always possessed a ridiculously unfair vendetta against James Potter.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia caught sight of Lily, herself, making her way out of her compartment. She was followed closely by three more of Cecilia's roommates: Mary Macdonald, Dorcas Meadowes, and Alice Blishwick. Only Marlene Cresswell was conspicuously absent. Cecilia rolled her eyes at the thought. Marlene Cresswell was an oddball; Cecilia supposed the girl was currently locked in an abandoned compartment, crying.

Marlene Cresswell was _always_ crying.

Slipping skillfully past Lily Evans and the other three Gryffindor girls, Cecilia pushed her way through the large throng of students, all of whom were waiting to exit the Hogwarts Express.

Over the sea of heads, Cecilia caught sight of a head of untidy, jet-black hair.

She smiled.

* * *

Dorcas Meadowes trailed after Mary and Lily as, together, they made their way out of their compartment and towards the open doors. As they clambered down the stairs, a cold gust of wind blew over Dorcas, and she shivered, tightening her cloak over her shoulders. It was an unusually chilly September evening, she mused, glancing around the crowded Hogsmeade Station. A thick, dense fog hung quite heavily in the air, and Dorcas had to squint to catch sight of her friends. Mary and Lily were following a group of third year Hufflepuffs towards the carriages. Pulling the hood of her cloak over her spiky, black hair, Dorcas hurried to catch up with them

"I'm worried about Marlene," Mary was murmuring, glancing over her shoulder towards where the Hogwarts Express stood, preparing to depart. "I haven't seen her since earlier this afternoon. She came into our compartment—and—oh—Lily, she looked awful! I haven't seen her like that since—since—"

"First year," Lily finished, her voice hard, and Mary nodded sadly.

Dorcas glanced from Mary to Lily, biting her lip. "You don't think she's still on the train, do you?" she asked nervously. "You don't think that she's—I don't know—hidden herself—?"

"_No_," Lily interjected firmly. "Marlene's not a coward, all right? She might get a little anxious around people, but—"

"A _little_ anxious?" Dorcas interrupted skeptically. "Lily, she can barely talk to _me_ without stammering, and I've been her friend for years!"

"Well, she's not as comfortable around you as she is around the rest of us," Mary explained gently, laying a reassuring hand on Dorcas's shoulder. "I think—" Mary hesitated, half-glancing at Lily. "I think you intimidate her a little, Dorcas."

Dorcas felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead. "Intimidate her?" she asked incredulously.

"What Mary means," Lily shot Mary a significant look, "is that…you're really…_bold_, you know? I think Marlene finds that a little…a little pressuring."

Dorcas gaped at her friends, utterly unable to believe what she was hearing. Marlene Cresswell had been her friend since their first year of Hogwarts, and Dorcas had never known—not in a million years—that she actually _intimidated_ the girl.

"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?" Dorcas demanded, glaring between her two friends. "If—if I'd know that Marlene was scared of me, I'd have made an effort to—!"

"It's not like that, Dorcas," Lily interrupted quietly. "She's not scared of you, all right? It's just your personality—you're loud, and sarcastic, and—"

"I'm not going to _change_ my personality!"

"Look, no one's asking you—!"

"This is ridiculous," snapped Dorcas, crossing her arms. "I can't—I can't believe you two would keep this from me, all these years."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "We didn't keep anything from you, Dor."

"Yeah," added Lily. "This doesn't change anything, all right?"

"Easy for you to say," retorted Dorcas defensively. She was suddenly feeling angry, and embarrassed, and uncomfortable. "You aren't the ones Marlene's cowering in fear from, are you?"

Mary flared up, "For the last time, she's not—!" she stopped short, catching sight of something over Dorcas's shoulder.

Dorcas whirled around. Marlene Cresswell was approaching them, pale-faced, but smiling.

"Well," Dorcas said loudly, eyebrows furrowing. "I guess that's my cue to leave."

And, ignoring the looks of mingled exasperation and distress on Mary's and Lily's faces, Dorcas swept past Marlene and made her way towards the carriages, alone.

* * *

"What's with this fog?" asked Peter, as he climbed into an empty carriage after Remus and Sirius. James had disappeared to find a carriage with Cecilia. "I can barely see anything, tonight."

Remus bit his lip, glancing around. Peter was right. A heavy, rather chilling fog had settled around Hogsmeade this evening, claiming treetops and chimneys with its swirling, gray poufs. It was a peculiar phenomenon, thought Remus. September nights in Scotland were usually clear and balmy.

"Well, don't you know?" Sirius asked darkly, and Remus turned to look at him.

"Know what?" asked Remus, bemused.

Sirius leaned forward. "That the fog is from the Dementors, of course," he said quietly. "Apparently, Cornelius Fudge has got them stationed all over England in search of Death Eaters. You know how Dementors are…cold, soul-sucking creatures…" Sirius shuddered. "Merlin, I would _hate_ to go to Azkaban."

"Well, it's good thing you'll never have to," chimed Remus, patting Sirius's shoulder. "What on Earth would you go to Azkaban for?"

Sirius grinned. "Many things."

"Like what?" asked Peter, perking up in interest.

"Like…" Sirius eyes glittered. He was clearly enjoying himself, mused Remus, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Like the fact that I'm an unregistered Animagus."

"Not so loudly!" Remus implored, glancing around to see whether anyone had heard. Shaking his head in exasperation, he turned back to Sirius. "All right, I suppose you're right. You _could_ go to Azkaban for that…but, somehow…I doubt that you'd ever let them catch you."

Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter. "Oh, Moony," he grinned. "I like the way you think."

* * *

Lily glanced worriedly around as she, Mary, and Marlene settled comfortably into their selected carriage. She was worried about Dorcas. The girl had taken the the whole intimidation affair with Marlene quite badly, and Lily hoped that she wasn't going to do anything reckless. Dorcas Meadowes _had_ always been a rather devil-may-care sort of personality.

Chewing on her lower lip, Lily turned around to face Mary, who was also looking a little concerned. Lily knew they were both wondering the same thing. Dorcas.

"Lily?" Marlene asked suddenly, eyebrows arching. "Are—is everything okay?"

"'Course," Lily lied quickly. "I was just wondering where…where Alice…went." Pause. "I haven't seen her since we got off the train."

"Oh," Marlene nodded. "She's probably sneaked off to the Post Office to write a letter to Frank, or something."

Lily giggled. "Probably," she agreed, shaking her head. "Although, I don't know how she expects to get back into the castle. The Hogwarts gates seal themselves after the students arrive, you know."

"Oh, please," scoffed Mary. "It's _Alice_. She can work her way out of anything, Lily. She'll probably charm old Selwyn into letting her use his Floo powder."

They all laughed. Landon Selwyn was the wise, gravely-voiced, middle-aged wizard who ran the afternoon and evening shifts at the Hogsmeade Post Office. Lily and her friends had first met him during a Hogsmeade weekend, back in their third year of Hogwarts, and he had quite inexplicably become one of their go-to adults for both familial and school-related advice. He was sympathetic, clever, and sensible beyond his years.

"I miss that old berk," Mary said thoughtfully.

"So do I," Marlene agreed sadly. "I haven't written to him in ages."

Lily gazed at Marlene. Landon Selwyn was one of the few people Marlene spoke with freely, and, in return, Selwyn had always held Marlene at a slightly higher level than he had the other girls, probably because he knew just how much it meant for Marlene to be able to converse with him.

"Well, we'll see him in a few weeks," Lily pointed out, after a moment of silence. "There's a Hogsmeade weekend in October."

Marlene brightened immediately. "That's right, I'd forgot—!"

"Mary!" exclaimed a familiar, irritatingly twittering voice. "Lily!"

Lily jumped slightly, craning her head to stare in the direction of the carriage entrance. Two, shadowy figures had stumbled towards the double-doors, laughing under their breaths. Before Lily could utter a syllable, the shorter of the two figures—a girl—climbed into the carriage and plunked herself down between Mary and Marlene. Lily raised an eyebrow.

"Do you mind if James and I sit here?" the girl asked in an artificially syrupy voice, glancing seriously between Mary and Lily. She was ignoring Marlene Cresswell, altogether; Lily itched to draw her wand. "All of the other carriages are taken."

There was a long, awkward silence, during which Marlene shifted pointedly away from Cecilia Addison and pushed herself to the edge of her seat, gazing blankly out the window. Lily glanced at James, who was still standing alone outside the carriage, shifting his feet uncomfortably. Lily almost laughed at the uneasiness of his expression.

Finally, Mary cleared her throat and mumbled ungraciously, "Er—sure you can sit…whatever…"

* * *

_Dear Frank,_

_I ditched the crowd heading up to Hogwarts and escaped to the Hogsmeade Post Office so that I could write to you. I miss you so much. You have no idea how awful it is to be back at school without you. But I guess, like Mary said, it's only for a year, isn't it? Plus, I'll be seeing you at Christmas. Your mum was saying something about coming over to our place for the December holidays._

_How's Auror training? Ethan Bones and his wife visited the other day. They're friends of my family. You remember them, don't you? Anyway, Ethan actually mentioned that his older brother, Edgar, is an Auror. Maybe you've met him?_

_I hope you're doing all right. Don't do anything stupid, and please, please stay safe, Frank. If I see your name in the newspaper even once, I swear, I'll hunt you down myself._

_Love you,_  
_Alice_

Alice read over the letter for the twentieth time that evening, biting her lip. Then, with a small sigh, she shoved the little scrap of parchment into a nearby envelope and sealed it with a tap of her wand.

"Are you truly planning on sending that thing, Miss?"

Alice looked up. A tall, willowy, middle-aged wizard with a head of unruly, salt-and-pepper curls had entered the dimly lit Post Office lobby, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Alice smiled weakly. "Sorry, Landon," she said apologetically. "Yes, I'll send it now."

Landon Selwyn nodded understandingly, stepping aside, so that Alice could brush past him and towards the massive back wall of nearly seventy, color-coded shelves, each of which held four or five impatient-looking owls. Holding her finished letter between her teeth, Alice leaned forward and untied a majestic-looking barn owl from the bottom shelf. Immediately, it flew out of the area, hooting happily, before landing—quite obediently—on Landon Selwyn's shoulder.

"So, how _is_ Mr. Longbottom doing?" Selwyn asked, as he took the envelope from Alice and fastened it neatly to the barn owl's claw.

"I haven't heard from him in a while," said Alice, fighting to keep her tone nonchalant. "And, his mum and his dad haven't come around to my family's place lately, so I haven't been able to ask them anything, either."

"Oh," Selwyn said simply, stroking the barn owl's shoulder and walking towards the nearby window. Alice followed him. "Well, I'm sure he's all right, Miss Blishwick. There's no need to worry, you know."

"I'm not worried," Alice said quickly—too quickly, for Selwyn glanced at her disbelievingly over his shoulder. "Really, I'm _not_," she continued resolutely, shaking her head. "I understand that's he's busy. He's an _Auror_, for Merlin's sake—and, Britain's never been more dangerous, and—" she broke off, hesitating.

Selwyn opened the Post Office window, and, with an excited twitter, the barn owl soared away from his shoulder and shot into the deep, indigo sky. Dusting his hands, Selwyn turned around to face Alice, once again. "What is it, Miss Blishwick?" he asked curiously. "Why did you stop talking?"

Alice crossed her arms, leaning back against the Post Office wall. There was a pause.

Then, finally—"Please don't tell any of the other girls about this," she said, voice low, "but I've decided…I've decided that I'm going to try and join the Auror Offices after Hogwarts…like Frank."

* * *

The carriages were finally trudging up towards a pair of magnificently plated, wrought-iron gates. Sirius dipped his body dangerously out of the window, eager for his first, proper look at the Hogwarts castle since June.

"You're going to break your neck, Padfoot," warned Peter.

"Please," Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't underestimate me."

"I don't think the problem is us underestimating you," informed Remus. His tone was weary. "I think the problem is _you_ overestimating yourself." He paused. "Sit _down_, Padfoot."

"All right, all right…" Exhaling in exasperation, Sirius pulled his head back into the carriage, grumbling under his breath. "Keep your hair on, will you?"

"I'll have you know my hair is perfectly well-attached, thank you very much," Remus said calmly. "It's yourself you should be worrying about."

Sirius rolled his eyes again. "I've always really appreciated the way you treat me like I've just escaped the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's…"

Peter sniggered, and Remus shrugged noncommittally.

Silence fell.

Sirius fidgeted uncomfortably with the hem of his robes. He loved Remus and Peter—they were like his brothers—but it felt rather odd, making the usual trip up to Hogwarts without James. Ever since their first year—with, or without Remus and Peter—he and James had arrived at Hogwarts in the same carriage, cracking the same ridiculous jokes about Threstals, and looking forward to the same things in the impending school year.

But, now, all of a sudden, Sirius felt very alone. James was off with Cecilia Addison—a girl Sirius didn't particularly like. And, there was still that whole affair with James's peculiar reaction to Sirius mentioning the former's father, on the train…

Sirius _knew_ there was something off with James. He'd known, from the moment he and James had gone to Diagon Alley, a week earlier, to buy their school supplies. James had talked and laughed in his usual fashion, but, once or twice, he'd grown suddenly quiet, and it had taken Sirius the better part of half-an-hour to get his friend talking again.

Folding his arms across his chest, Sirius leaned back in his seat and frowned to himself, his mind whirring.

James had gotten defensive when Sirius had mentioned the former's father, and he'd gotten even _more_ defensive when Sirius had mentioned his late mother…

Sirius's eyes widened in alarm.

Suddenly, he understood.

* * *

"Miss Blishwick," Selwyn looked astonished. "Are you—are you serious?"

Alice nodded slowly, biting her lip. "I am," she said quietly. "I—this is what I want. I want to join the Aurors, Landon…I—I _need_ to. Frank's been right, from the start. This is war—this is _really_ happening, and I—I want to help! I want to fight!"

She said this all very quickly, her voice growing higher and higher with every sentence, and she didn't blame Selwyn for taking a cautious step back, once she'd finished. For several moments, neither one said a word. Alice watched the man carefully. His eyebrows had furrowed slightly, but he didn't look angry. On the contrary, he looked rather thoughtful. Alice awkwardly rubbed her palms together, turning her attention to the floor.

"You're right."

Alice's gaze snapped back onto Selwyn. The man was nodding slowly, his dark eyes downcast. "What?" she asked.

"You are absolutely right, Miss Blishwick," he repeated evenly. "This is war. This is real. You must fight."

"I—" Alice blinked. "Yes, exactly."

Still nodding slowly, Selwyn swept away from the window, and back towards his tiny, little desk in the corner of the Post Office's large lobby. Lifting his chin, Selwyn slid delicately into his chair, crossing his long, thin fingers at the edge of the wooden table. "Have you told Mr. Longbottom of your decision, yet?"

Alice sighed, leaning back against the wall once again. "I haven't told anyone," she said softly. "Well, except you," she added, as an afterthought. Suddenly, she raised her head, gazing intently at him.

"I won't tell a soul," he said at once, evidently understanding, and Alice nodded appreciatively.

There was a small pause. Alice glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to seven o'clock. If she didn't hurry back, she would miss the feast.

"Landon?"

"Yes, Miss Blishwick?"

"Would you mind if I used your fireplace?"

* * *

The carriages picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle. Mary opened her eyes, blinking around, as, at long last, her carriage swayed to an unsteady halt. All five inhabitants immediately jumped to their feet.

Before anyone could utter a word, Mary grabbed Marlene's wrist and whisked her out of the carriage, Lily at their heels.

"You don't need to drag me off," Marlene said quietly, forcibly wrenching her hand out of Mary's, as, together, the two of them—and Lily—ambled in through the oak front doors, and into the cavernous Entrance Hall. "I wasn't going to start crying, you know. I'm not as weak as Cecilia Addison thinks I am."

"You're not weak at all, Marlene," Lily agreed hotly. "But, I wasn't about to listen to that prig gush about how 'absolutely _delighted_' she is that they've made her Prefect for another _second_, so you're going to have to excuse Mary and I for our hasty departure," she finished, scowling slightly.

"Lily's right, I couldn't spend another minute with those two," Mary shuddered, sweeping down the dimly lit corridor and into the Great Hall for supper. "Could you believe it when they started snogging? It's like they forgot there were three _other_ people in that carriage who _didn't_ quite fancy losing their appetites!"

Marlene chuckled softly, and Mary smiled warmly at her. Then, suddenly, she remembered something.

"Hey, Marlene," said Mary, as she and Marlene took a seat together near the far edge of the Gryffindor table. Lily settled down opposite them. "Where did you disappear to this afternoon, after you left our carriage? You never came back."

Marlene didn't say anything, so Mary turned around to peer curiously at the blonde-haired girl. She had clamped her mouth shut, stiffened her shoulders, and her eyes were darting rather peculiarly from Mary to Lily.

"Mar?" Lily asked worriedly, leaning over the table to get a closer look at her friend. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," stammered Marlene, eyes widening slightly.

"Then, why—?"

But, Marlene was saved the trouble of answering. Professor McGonagall had ascended the podium to begin the sorting ceremony.

* * *

"Goodbye, Landon," Alice waved at the tired-looking, old man, as she stepped into the Post Office's feebly flickering fireplace. "I'll see you soon."

"Of course, Miss Blishwick," he nodded, bowing his head. "Very soon."

Alice beamed. And, taking a deep breath, she threw a fistful of glittery, silver powder to the floor. "Gryffindor common room!" she yelled, over the rushing sound in her ears. She had begun to spin very fast, and the Post Office's large, ovular lobby was whipped out of sight in a flash of emerald-green flames.

When, after several moments, she felt herself slowing down, Alice threw out her hands and came to an erratic halt, just in time to prevent herself from toppling, face forward, onto the common room's maroon-carpeted hearth.

She immediately leaped to her feet, glancing around. The room was completely empty, as she had expected it to be. The other students were probably all downstairs, anxiously awaiting their dinner. Dusting off her robes, Alice proceeded quickly through the common room and clambered out of the portrait hole.

She checked her watch. It was five minutes past seven. She was late. Oh, how she hoped the sorting ceremony hadn't started yet. It would be very uncomfortable, having to slip into the Great Hall whilst everyone was attentively watching the ceremony. She could almost imagine the incredulously furious look Professor McGonagall's face.

Cringing inwardly at the thought, Alice flew down one last flight of stairs and paced through the Entrance Hall. She was just about to open the large double-doors, her fingers just mere inches away from the brass doorknobs, when—

"Miss Blishwick!"

Alice's heart leaped into her throat. Eyes widening, she swiveled around, coming face-to-face with the tall, rather imperial Freya Quisenberry, Alice's bitter and unreasonable Divination professor.

"Professor," she squeaked in terror, clutching the brass door handle so tightly that her knuckles went white. "I—I was just about to join the feast."

"You're nearly ten minutes late, Miss Blishwick," admonished Professor Quisenberry coldly. "And, might I add, you're face is a little…sooty."

With trembling fingers, Alice brushed her hand to her cheek, coming into contact with a thin coating of gray. "Er—I must have run into a—dirty plant, or something," Alice invented lamely, shrugging. "But—er—I think I'll be heading to the feast, now—"

"I don't think so," Professor Quisenberry said dispassionately, lifting her chin, and Alice was reminded momentarily of Landon Selwyn, doing precisely the same thing. She shook herself. "I think that you, Miss Blishwick, will be joining me in _my_ office for your dinner, as well as for your first detention of the year." Professor Quisenberry's sallow lips twisted into a slightly malicious smile, as she swept down the Entrance Hall. "Well,come along!" she nipped impatiently over her shoulder.

With one last look of longing over her shoulder, towards the Great Hall, Alice was forced to follow her least favorite professor up the marble staircase.

* * *

"Amazing feast, wasn't it?" Lily sighed happily, as she, Marlene, and Mary flitted out of the Great Hall and into the adjoining Entrance Hall after an hour of delicious snacking and frivolous conversation.

"As always," Mary agreed, smiling. Suddenly, her smile faltered. "Alice never came, did she?" she asked, glancing around. "I never saw her. Do you reckon she's all right? We don't need to tell McGonagall, do we?"

"I'm sure she's fine," Lily assured, although she herself wasn't completely positive. "But, if she doesn't come up to our dormitory tonight, we can all go to McGonagall together."

Mary and Marlene both nodded.

Then, Marlene spoke up, frowning, "I haven't seen Dorcas since the train, either. Is she all right?"

Lily shot Mary a fleeting, pained glance over Marlene's shoulder. "Yeah, she's all right, Marlene," Lily nodded. "I think she sat with some of her sixth year friends today, though."

"Oh," Marlene was still frowning. "Okay."

There was a tense moment of silence, during which Lily and Mary both crossed their arms a little uncomfortably as they followed Marlene Cresswell to the marble staircase.

"Right, well, I'll see you guys in an hour or so," sighed Lily, curling her hand around the banister and gazing wistfully up at her friends. "I've got to do rounds for a bit."

Mary and Marlene both shot Lily sympathetic looks before following the chattering throngs of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students up the staircase. Lily watched them go. Then, she spun around.

The first years were all attentively following their fifth year Prefects out of the crowded expanse, and towards their respective common rooms. Lily stood on her tiptoes, counting off heads. Then, she proceeded over to where James Potter was standing, at the corner of the Entrance Hall, along with the sixth and seventh year Prefects.

"Gryffindors," she turned to where Remus Lupin, Cecilia Addison, Cerys Bennett, and Alexander Iglehart stood, near the right corner of the group. "I'm afraid it's your night to do patrols. I think you two—" she addressed both Remus and Cecilia, although, admittedly, she was mostly speaking to Remus, "—can start with the sixth floor, and work your way downwards, whereas you two—" she pointed to Cerys and Alexander, "—can do the opposite."

Remus nodded, smiling amiably at Lily as he ascended the marble staircase. Cecilia sauntered after him, distractedly combing her fingers through her waist-long sheet of amber locks. Lily wrinkled her nose.

Cerys and Alexander scuttled down the nearby corridor, and the rest of the Prefects bid each other goodnight and retreated to their dormitories.

The Entrance Hall was nearly empty now. Even the teachers were beginning to file up the staircases, to their quarters…Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn, Flitwick, Babbling, Burbage, Sinistra, Kettleburn, Vector, and the school's newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Caradoc Dearborn…one by one, they each made their way, until there were only two people left standing in the expanse.

Lily blinked.

Then, she turned to James.

He was leaning against the Entrance Hall wall, his hair sticking up in all directions, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyebrows raised in a lazy greeting.

"Evans."

"Potter."

* * *

Alice's wrist was hurting. Glaring across the Divination classroom at Professor Quisenberry, who—in any case—was far too busy reading a letter to pay much attention to her detention victim, Alice sighed tiredly, turning back to the parchment she had been scribbling on for the past hour-and-a-half.

The phrase "I must not be tardy" was copied at least fifty times, in varying degrees of legibility, across the scroll.

Sighing again, Alice dipped her quill into her ink bottle, and wrote:

_I must not be tardy._

Alice was bored, and her wrist ached, and, right now, she hated Professor Quisenberry more than anyone else in the world.

_I must not be tardy._

She missed Frank.

_I must not be tardy._

She wondered if Frank missed her back. If he did, he certainly hadn't been showing it, lately…

_I must not be tardy._

The last letter she'd received from him had been in July, nearly two months earlier.

_I must not be tardy._

Alice bit her lip, eyes burning suddenly. What if…what if Frank had stopped loving her…?

_I must not be tardy._

Maybe he'd met someone else. Someone who was finished with school. Prettier than Alice, smarter than Alice…probably an Auror, as well…

_I must not be tardy._

_I must not be tardy._

_I must not be tardy._

Professor Quisenberry cleared her throat loudly, and Alice snapped out of her reverie, gazing up at her. "Yes, Professor?"

"I suppose you can leave now," Quisenberry said stiffly. "I hope you've learned your lesson about tardiness, Miss Blishwick."

Alice's heart soared. She leaped to her feet. "Yes, of course, Professor," she said quickly, all but sprinting to the circular trapdoor in the middle of the expanse. Throwing it open, Alice hastened down the stairs, two at a time, not slowing until she had exited North Tower.

Then, panting heavily, Alice set off for Gryffindor Tower, her head still buzzing with thoughts of Frank Longbottom and his arms around a slim, faceless woman—a woman who wasn't Alice.

* * *

"You're a little self-righteous, you know that?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"You're always talking in—in this sort of condescending tone—"

"And, _you're_ a git! Who do you think you are, insulting a girl?"

"What makes insulting a girl any different from insulting a bloke?"

"Well, for one thing, _we_ have actual feelings."

James snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that _you_, Potter, are an insensitive little prick," snapped Lily, crossing her arms and glaring sideways at her companion.

Lily and James were strolling leisurely down the fourth floor corridor. Actually, James was strolling leisurely. Lily was struggling to keep up with the Head Boy's inexplicably large paces.

"I'm not insensitive," James said calmly.

"Really?" demanded Lily, coming to a sharp halt in her tracks. James slowed as well, gazing curiously at her over his shoulder. "Because I happen to remember you saying something _extremely_ insensitive to me, on the train today."

James was silent, and Lily's eyes narrowed angrily.

"What?" she snapped, when, after several moments, he did not respond. "Feeling sorry, are you?"

"No," James said simply. "I'm not sorry for what I said."

Lily flared up. "You're _not_ sorry?" she screeched. "You—you told me that I was—that I needed to date a—!"

"And, you do," interrupted James lightly. "I stand by my words, Evans. You _do_ need a boyfriend."

Lily gaped at him, incredulous. "I've dated plenty of boys, Potter." She shook her head. "But, right now, I'd rather focus on—"

"Oh, please don't say '_studies_,'" scoffed James.

"But, it's true—!"

But, James was clearly no longer listening to a word she was saying. His attention had shifted to the far edge of the fourth floor hallway, where Cerys Bennett and Alexander Iglehart were disappearing into a nearby broom cupboard, both laughing nervously.

"You know," James said seriously, as he turned around to face a disbelieving Lily. His eyes shone with mirth. "I always _knew_ there was something going on with those two."

Lily clapped a hand to her forehead, groaning. "Those two are infuriating," she snapped. "For the love of Merlin—they're Prefects! They're supposed to be manning the hallways, not shacking up in a supply closet!"

James laughed. "Take it easy, Evans," he advised, eyes sparkling in amusement now. "It's only our first day back."

Lily grumbled under her breath. "Whatever," she huffed, wrinkling her nose. "Look, Potter, I suppose if Iglehart and Bennett aren't going to listen to my orders, I'll need you to switch to patrolling the—"

"—third floor corridors for half-an-hour, and then switch to the second," finished James. "Yeah, believe it or not, Evans, I _was_ listening when you were blabbing on the train…" he trailed off, rolling his eyes. And, with a slight tip of his head, James vanished down the marble staircase.

Lily stared after him, astonished

* * *

James wandered around the third floor corridor, whistling softly. He could vaguely hear Cecilia Addison's shrill, chirruping tones several floors above him, and he smirked, shaking his head, as he envisioned Remus's world-weary expression.

James had started seeing Cecilia Addison over the summer. He had been spending several weeks in mid-July at his father's newly purchased summer cottage in Godric's Hollow, which, incidentally, had happened to be just four blocks away from Cecilia Addison's regular house.

Cecilia Addison was not as bad as people said, James had decided, after spending several evenings in a row closeted in her cozy, little front porch. She was a little artificial, maybe. And, a tad loud. But, she was a good person. And, James had come to see that about her. He didn't care that Sirius thought she was "an annoying, little prude," or that Remus and Peter had exchanged an incredulous look when James and told them about his new girlfriend.

Cecilia Addison _was_ a good pers—

"Prongs."

James whirled around. "Padfoot?" he asked disbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius Black stepped forward, frowning. The pair was stood together in the middle of the third floor corridor. James's eyebrows arched slightly in bemusement. Sirius was looking uncharacteristically somber.

A pause.

Then—"I know, Prongs."

"What?"

"I _know_."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know about your dad."


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

* * *

Sirius Orion Black hated nearly everything about his childhood.

He detested his parents, he abhorred his old house, and he was ashamed of his name.

In short, he simply hated every reminder that he came from a family that supported—idealized, even—everything that he, Sirius, did not.

The Christmas after his sixteen birthday, Sirius Black had decided that he'd had enough.

He'd just seen his mother nonchalantly slice the head off of Dotty, the family's only sane house elf—and Sirius's sole companion in the murky depths of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place—so, shaking with anger, Sirius had begun ripping clothes out of his wardrobe and haphazardly stuffing them into his trunk.

His mother had been chatting idly in the sitting room with his father, Aunt Druella, and Uncle Cygnus when Sirius had finally sauntered down the winding staircase and into the hall, trunk in one hand and wand in the other. And, the looks of horror and fury they had all flung him had made one corner of Sirius's lips tug upward in a dry smirk.

His mother had followed him to the front door, screaming a garble of admonitions and hexes at the top of her lungs. Sirius had ducked them all easily, turning back at the front porch to bestow his parents the coldest look he could muster. It had been the only moment in his entire life that Sirius had ever seen his mother recoil in surprise.

It had been raining heavily that day, and Sirius had barely made it three blocks before he'd realized that he was nearly soaked through with water, and that the Muggles on the street were all eyeing him oddly—understandable, of course, considering the fact that he'd been carrying an old-fashioned, coffin-shaped trunk in one hand and what had probably looked to _them_ like a long, wooden twig in the other.

Gasping for air, and shaking the icy-cold water out of his black hair, Sirius had plunked himself down upon a nearby park bench and buried his face in his arms, feverishly trying to ignore the peculiar burning sensation in his eyes.

He couldn't have gone to Andromeda and Ted's. He hadn't known the address; Andromeda had, at the time, refused to include it in her letters to him, in case the information had fallen into the hands of his mother. Or, worse, _her_ sister.

He couldn't have gone to Uncle Alphard's, either, for the latter had been vacationing in Barcelona, at the time.

Peter and his mother had been spending the summer with distant family members in Cheshire.

Remus's family had been out of the question; Sirius had certainly not wanted to intrude on Lyall and Hope Lupin's already anxiety-driven lifestyles.

And, James hadn't been speaking to him.

James hadn't been speaking to him.

_James hadn't been speaking to him._

James had been furious with Sirius, at the time, for the awful trick he had played on Snape, and he hadn't spoken a word to Sirius in nearly a month, even whilst Remus and Peter had somewhat forgiven him.

But, nighttime had been falling, and Sirius had not wanted to be caught in the darkness, just a few streets away from his house, where Bellatrix Lestrange could have dropped by, at any moment. So, mentally cursing himself, Sirius had called the Knight Bus, and rode off to the Potters'.

It had been James who had opened the door. James who, despite the fact that he had been furious with Sirius, just moments earlier, had hurriedly ushered a drenched and trembling Sirius into his house.

It had been James's mother who had cleaned out one of the Potters' spare bedroom and made it up for Sirius. It had been James's father who had comforted Sirius when the latter had recounted the bitter tale of his departure.

It had been James who had given Sirius a new home and a new family.

And, it was to James, now, that Sirius spoke on the third floor corridor, his voice trembling, ever-so-slightly: "I know about your dad."

* * *

"There you are!" Marlene exclaimed, sitting up suddenly in her bed, as Dorcas ambled into their dormitory, over an hour after the feast had ended. "Where've you been?"

"Out," said Dorcas shortly, avoiding Marlene's gaze and rummaging through her trunk for her pajamas.

Marlene frowned. "What do you mean 'out?'"

Dorcas stood up, slinging her nightclothes over her shoulder and striding across the dormitory towards the tiny bathroom in the corner. She knocked on the door.

"Wait a minute, will you?" came Mary's annoyed response, and Dorcas exhaled impatiently.

Marlene, meanwhile, was still gazing at Dorcas, feeling rather hurt. Dorcas had always been blunt, but, at the moment, she sounded downright surly. "Dorcas—?" Marlene began timidly.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, admitting Mary. And, without another word, Dorcas stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

Marlene jumped slightly and gazed, dumbfounded, at the still-quivering door. "What on Earth—?"

"Oh, honestly," interrupted Mary loudly, stalking up to the bathroom door once again, and banging her fist against the wood. "Dorcas, let me in, this instant!"

Silence.

"I'll blast the door off of its hinges, if you don't!" Mary bellowed, drawing her wand,and Marlene's eyes widened in disbelief. "Open the door, Dorcas!"

There was a pause.

Then—"You wouldn't blast open the door," Dorcas said quietly, her voice muffled against the timber paneling. "I'd die."

Mary's expression softened, but only slightly. "Don't wait to find out what I would do," Mary said sharply. "Open the _door_, Dorcas."

At long last, there was a soft click, and the door cracked open. Marlene tiptoed out of her four-poster bed, and came to stand next to Mary. "Dorcas?" she asked softly. Dorcas's hazel eyes blinked up at her from between the door hinge and the door itself. "What's going on with you?"

"Like you care," Dorcas snapped. "Don't pretend that you—"

But, that was as much as Marlene heard. For, the very next instant, Mary had shot Marlene an apologetic glance and slipped into the bathroom, as well, shutting the door behind her.

Marlene blinked.

* * *

Alice trudged spiritlessly down the seventh floor corridor, running a hand through her short bob of chestnut-colored curls. Her mind was still plagued with thoughts of Frank Longbottom and the idea of him falling out of love with her, Alice. How could she have allowed such a thing to occur? Had she been clingy? Had she said something? Alice wracked her brains, struggling to understand. She and Frank had been together since she was thirteen, and he was fourteen. The idea of him throwing all of that away for another woman made Alice's skin crawl unpleasantly. Shivering slightly at the thought, Alice turned around the corner of the seventh floor corridor and approached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?"

Alice's stomach dropped. "Er—" she hesitated, vaguely wondering whether Lily had mentioned it to her on the train.

"Alice?"

Alice swung around. Remus Lupin was striding down the corridor from the opposite direction, looking politely curious. His Prefect badge glittered on the front of his cloak.

"Hi, Remus," she greeted him kindly. "Is Cecilia with you?"

"No, she went to find James." He shrugged noncommittally. "Er—what are you doing here? It's past curfew."

Alice started. "Oh—yes, I know. I just…I forgot the password."

Remus raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, but he did not question her any further. "Gillyweed," he declared, and, suddenly, the portrait swung open, revealing the warm, maroon-tinged Gryffindor common room.

"Thanks," Alice smiled, making her way towards the stairs to the girls' dormitories, and Remus inclined his head in acknowledgement, heading for the other staircase.

Suddenly—and she didn't know what made her do it—Alice called, "Remus?"

Remus paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Er—" Alice hesitated, shifting rather uneasily from foot to foot. She suddenly felt very silly, indeed. "You knew Frank, didn't you?" she asked him, her voice sounding unusually shrill.

Remus frowned confusedly. "Only a little," he admitted. "He was a good Head Boy," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Yeah, he was," Alice agreed, and Remus's confusion seemed to accentuate. She hastily continued, "I was just wondering whether you'd been in contact with him, lately."

Remus shook his head. "Sorry, I haven't," he told her, and Alice's heart dropped. "I heard he's training to be an Auror, though. That's really impressive."

"Yeah," Alice said in a small voice, staring at her feet. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Pause.

Then—"Alice?"

Alice looked up.

Remus was gazing at her curiously, his head cocked to the side. "Is everything all right?"

Alice nodded slowly, avoiding his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added hollowly. And, she swept up the staircase to her dormitory, without another word.

* * *

"_Muffliato_," Mary murmured, flicking her wand at the back of the bathroom door.

Dorcas raised her eyebrows. "What does that do?"

Mary swiveled around, glaring. "It makes sure that poor Marlene won't hear all the things I'm going to shout at you," she snapped.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "Marlene doesn't care—"

"But, that's the thing," interrupted Mary sharply, flinging her hands into the air. "She does, Dorcas! She _does_ care!"

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. "You know," she said in a low voice. "I'm getting some really mixed signals from you. First, you tell me that Marlene doesn't care, and, now—"

"I never said that she doesn't care!" Mary cried. She was beginning to lose her patience now. Dorcas was failing to understand the importance of her message. "All I said was that you intimidate her—a _little_! Dor, it's possible to be afraid of someone, and still appreciate them! It's how I feel about—about Professor McGonagall, for example!"

Dorcas flared up, "Yeah, but you can also like someone at first, but, eventually, let your fear towards them cause you to resent them! That's how _I_ feel about Professor McGonagall!"

Mary fell silent, momentarily distracted. "You resent McGonagall?"

Dorcas crossed her arms. "We're getting off topic."

"We never agreed _on_ a topic," retorted Mary. "You don't understand—"

"Actually, I do understand," interrupted Dorcas, and her tone was so icy that Mary forgot to argue. Eyes widening slightly, Mary took a step backwards. "I understand it very well," continued Dorcas. "I understand that talking to people makes Marlene nervous, and I understand that _I_ make Marlene nervous, as you and Lily have so kindly informed me." Dorcas paused, eyes blazing. "Therefore, I think it would be best for _everyone_ if I stopped talking to Marlene."

* * *

The seventh year girls' dormitory was quiet when Alice finally opened the door and stepped inside, several moments later. Marlene was sleeping, snoring softly, huddled beneath a heaping pile of blankets. The bathroom door was shut, and Dorcas's bed was empty, so Alice presumed that the black-haired girl was freshening up. Meanwhile, Mary, dressed in her nightclothes, was sitting up in bed, scribbling out a letter in her untidy scrawl.

"Who are you writing to?" asked Alice curiously, as she knelt down beside her trunk and began combing through her possessions.

"My parents," replied Mary absently. "Their grocery store isn't doing so well…I wanted to make sure everything's all right…"

"Oh," said Alice, though she had never quite learned what a grocery store was. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm," was Mary's brief response.

There was a moment's peaceful silence.

Then—"How's old Landon doing?" Mary asked her, folding up her completed letter and stuffing it into a spare envelope.

Alice looked up from her trunk. "Same as always," she shrugged. "I reckon he's the only person I know who's never changed."

Mary frowned. "I've never changed."

Alice stared at her. Then, she smiled. "No, I suppose you haven't, either."

Mary bit her lip. Then—"I've ruined everything, Alice," she groaned, burying her face in her palms.

Alice frowned, bewildered. "What're you talking about?"

"It's Marlene," moaned Mary. "And Dorcas. They—they aren't speaking, anymore, and it's all my fault! I couldn't—I couldn't have just kept my mouth shut, I just _had_ to interfere—!"

"Mary," interrupted Alice patiently, sitting up straighter. "I don't understand a word you're saying."

Mary heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, raising her head. "I told Dorcas that she intimidates Marlene, so, now, Dorcas isn't speaking to her."

It took several moments for Mary's words to settle into Alice's mind. "You…_what_?"

"I know," lamented Mary, covering her face once again. "It was—I—so _stupid_!"

"Yes, that's exactly what it was," agreed Alice, climbing to her feet and shaking her head. "Why—?"

But, suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and the tall, lean figure of Dorcas Meadowes stepped out, drying her spiky mop of shiny, black hair with a towel. Humming softly, she glanced appraisingly from Mary to Alice, eyebrows raised.

"Alice," Dorcas greeted the shorter girl. "Where were you at dinner?"

There was a rustle of blankets, as Mary, too, propped herself up against her pillows, expression curious. "Yeah, Al, you never mentioned why it took you so long to get back," she mused, frowning. "Did you eat dinner in Hogsmeade?"

"No," said Alice in a small voice, turning back to her trunk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mary and Dorcas exchange a look.

"Al?" asked Mary.

"I had a detention," said Alice very quickly. "With Quisenberry, for being late."

There was a fraught pause.

Then, Mary and Dorcas both erupted into laughter.

* * *

Lily rubbed her eyes tiredly, ambling unsteadily up the staircase, towards the seventh floor. She had successfully completed her rounds of the fourth and fifth floors, and she duly hoped that James had, indeed, done what he'd said he would, and finished patrolling the second and third floor corridors. Part of her was still incredulous over the entire ordeal, but the other part—the undeniably more significant part—had agreed to put the matter to rest, in her mind. If James Potter was going to prove that he was the correct choice for Head Boy, then who was she, to stand in his way?

Sighing, Lily clambered up the last few stairs. She was just a few inches away from the portrait of the Fat Lady when she caught sight of a flash of amber.

Lily turned around, blinking. "Cecilia?"

There was a pitter-patter of gentle footsteps, and, suddenly, Cecilia Addison's familiar face—complete with the naturally upturned nose and glittering eyes—appeared at the far end of the corridor.

Lily thought, fleetingly, that the girl might actually look rather pretty, if she wasn't always sporting such an unpleasant expression.

"Hi, Lily," Cecilia greeted, with an air of obviously forced cheerfulness.

"What are you still doing out here?" Lily called suspiciously. "Where's Remus?"

Cecilia hesitated momentarily, and Lily knew she was contemplating her choices. Finally, however, she sighed, and began strolling down the corridor towards the Head Girl.

"Remus and I finished patrolling ages ago," Cecilia explained in a matter-of-fact manner, sweeping her mane of golden hair over her shoulders. "I was looking for James."

"Oh," said Lily uncomfortably. "Well, all right, then. Er—good luck."

Cecilia nodded, and Lily refaced the Fat Lady, who was watching the exchange with a bemused expression.

"Gillyw—"

"He doesn't fancy you anymore."

Lily turned around, eyebrows raised. Cecilia was gazing quite intently at Lily, arms folded importantly across her chest. "Excuse me?" Lily asked sharply.

Cecilia blushed slightly, but she did not defer. "James," she explained simply, keeping her gaze level with Lily's. "He doesn't fancy you anymore. He told me himself. He's through with you."

A blurred whirlwind of emotions and questions raced each other through Lily's mind, but she did not dare voice them aloud, least of all to Cecilia and the portrait of the undeniably nosy Fat Lady. "All right," said Lily calmly, instead.

Cecilia's eyebrows furrowed. "Aren't you upset?" she demanded.

"Why would I be?" Lily asked airily.

Cecilia seemed to struggle for words. "I—I thought—that—" she stammered, shifting uneasily.

"Well, you thought wrong," said Lily coolly. "Now, I suggest that, rather than aimlessly wandering the castle in search of James Potter, you try and get some sleep. We have classes at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, in case you've forgotten." Lily turned to Fat Lady, once again. "Gillyweed."

And, without waiting to see whether or not Cecilia took her advice, Lily swept through her portrait hole without another glance.

* * *

The Hogwarts kitchens were always rather quiet during the evenings. The usual sounds of bustling House Elves and sizzling meat were both absent, and the sunny light that streamed in through the large, square-shaped window frames was dimmed to the pale glimmer of the moonlight.

This evening was no exception. However, rather than the peaceful and calming silence that usual pervaded the kitchen's warm interior, an unusually stony quiet hung between the two young, black-haired men seated upon the kitchen floor.

Each boys held, in his hand, a glass of mead. And, both sported similarly vacant expressions.

For several, long minutes, neither one uttered a syllable.

Then—"Hettie," called James suddenly, and with a loud, scurrying noise from the nearby pantry, a small, skinny house elf emerged, eyes round and curious.

"Is Master Potter needing something?" squeaked the little elf.

"Would you mind getting me another glass, please?" James asked quietly. Sirius snorted, but James ignored him. "This one's nearly empty."

"Hettie is getting Master Potter more mead," piped the the elf. And, with a tiny bow, Hettie disappeared into the pantry, once again.

"Maybe you should hold off on the alcohol, Prongs," Sirius mumbled. "Unless you want to be hungover in class tomorrow."

James shrugged noncommittally, and Sirius dropped the matter. It appeared to James, for a moment, as though another uncomfortably chilly silence was about to fall upon the pair, once again.

But, then—"You should have told me."

James glanced up. Sirius was gazing at him intently, and James was revolted to find the smallest hint of pity in his gray eyes. Biting back the cruel retort that immediately sprung to his lips, James merely shrugged again, and returned his gaze to his feet.

Hettie reappeared with her promised mead, and James thanked her gratefully, downing half of the glass in one, enormous swallow. Closing his eyes, James exhaled deeply and leaned back against the kitchen wall.

"Prongs…"

Anger prickled in James's mind. "Don't," he snapped.

"What?"

James opened his eyes. Sirius had frozen in his position, his glass just inches away from his lips, looking absolutely dumbfounded.

James continued, "I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that you're _sorry_ for me, and that you're _here_ for me, and that you'd give _anything_ for all of this not to be real." James laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. "I've heard it all before, Padfoot. I don't need your pity."

There was a pause.

"You're father's dying," Sirius said shortly. And, it was so unexpected, so blunt, and so _real_, that James looked up, eyes widening. "And, you should have told me, Prongs."

"I—"

"I'm not finished," Sirius interrupted, and James broke off, stung. Sirius waited for a moment, his eyes blazing peculiarly. Then, he took a deep breath. "A little under a year ago, I ran away from home. I came to your house, and you, and _your_ mother, and _your_ father gave me a place to stay. This June, I moved out. But, it wasn't because I didn't appreciate everything your family had done for me. It's because I _did_, and I didn't want to impose any longer."

James took a moment to process all of this. Then, he shook his head. "Look—"

"I miss Dorea, too," Sirius said in a low voice. "When you lost your mother, Prongs, I lost a friend. And, now Charlus is dying. And—and, you _should_ have told me," Sirius added in a fierce voice.

James was stunned. He gazed at his friend, anger bubbling within him, because Sirius Black had no right to say these things to James, who had lost a mother, and was soon to lose a father, when Sirius, himself, had two perfectly alive and healthy parents.

But, then, James realized that Sirius had already lost his mother and father. Not to Death. But, all the same.

"Sorry," James muttered, after a moment. "I didn't realize—"

"Don't apologize," Sirius said abruptly. "Please, don't."

James nodded dully, taking another sip from his glass.

"How long does he have left?" Sirius asked in a weary voice.

James's stomach clenched. "Six months."


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Seven

The Day After

* * *

Specks of sunlight were just beginning to stream in through the large bay windows, and Lily blinked, breathing deeply, as she rolled onto her back and pulled her covers up to her chin. Wiggling her toes comfortably, Lily smiled vaguely up at the timber-paneled ceiling, taking in the different grooves and markings, so familiar were they to her.

With a small cough, Lily pushed herself upwards and leaned against the backboard of her four poster bed, eyes flicking around the cozy, little dormitory. Mary's and Alice's beds were empty and made, and Lily supposed they had already gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Marlene, however, was curled into a small, tight ball under her quilts, and Dorcas lay spread-angle across hers.

Lily then glanced fleetingly at the bed farthest away from hers. Martha Addison's pretty, blonde curls peeked out from under her sheets. Lily rolled her eyes, sighing.

Sidling out of bed and stretching her arms, she tiptoed around her trunk and into the small bathroom in the corner of the room to get ready.

By the time she was finally ready to go down to breakfast, it was well past seven. Marlene and Dorcas were still sleeping soundly in their beds, and Lily knew that it would be at least another hour until either of them woke up. Martha, however, was beginning to stir under her blankets, so Lily wasted no time in slipping out of the dormitory and making her way down to the common room.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with people, as it usually was in the mornings. Groups of first and second year students sat all around the expanse, talking animatedly, and, by the fireplace, a few upper class students were feverishly finishing last-minute homework assignments. Lily spotted Reginald Cattermole's head of auburn curls leaning heavily against the hearth. He was frowning down at a sheet of parchment, twirling a worn-out quill between his fingers. But, then, almost as though he sensed Lily's gaze upon him, his gaze flickered up and his bright blue eyes came to rest on Lily's green ones. His lips twisted into an impish grin.

In a flash, he had shoved both the parchment and quill into his bag and sprinted through the crowded expanse to where Lily stood by the portrait hole. Lily regarded him shrewdly as he approached her.

"Good morning, Lily Evans." He greeted her with a raunchy, little salute, still grinning widely. "How kind of you to wait for me."

Lily ducked out of the portrait hole and stepped into the adjoining corridor. Then, she looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "I wasn't waiting for you."

"Oh, really?" countered Reginald, raising his eyebrows, as he followed her down the marble staircase. There was an air of nonchalant intuition in his voice that infuriated Lily. "Do you make it a habit to stand by the portrait hole and stare at people, then?"

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I wasn't staring—"

"Well, I think you were," Reginald interrupted, eyes glittering with amusement. "I think Head Girl Lily Evans is afraid to admit that she was caught staring at a sixth year."

Lily glared at him, but there was a curious prickling sensation in her cheeks, and she realized, with a jolt of horror, that a small blush was creeping up her face. She turned away huffily, and was saved the trouble of explaining herself, when, suddenly, someone called her name.

"Lily!"

Lily looked up. They had reached the Great Hall; Mary was waving her over from the middle of the Gryffindor table. Lily smiled at her, grateful for the diversion, and, without another glance at Reginald, she hurried to sit beside her friend.

Mary, however, was looking at Reginald over Lily's shoulder with interest. "Who's that, Lily?"

Lily, piling her plate high with bacon, followed Mary's gaze to where Reginald had settled down a few feet away, amongst a group of fellow sixth years. "Oh, just a sixth year I caught breaking curfew last night during patrol," Lily explained casually, shoveling a forkful of bacon into her mouth.

"Oh," said Mary, still watching him curiously. "Why were you with him just now?"

Lily shrugged. "No reason—he just came down at the same time as me."

Mary looked at Lily, eyebrows raised. But, before she could question Lily further, there was a collective murmur of alarm from the Gryffindor table, and Lily turned to the entrance to the Great Hall. Her eyes widened.

James Potter was hobbling towards the Gryffindor table, one arm around flung around Sirius Black's shoulders and the other around Peter Pettigrew's. His left ankle was thickly bandaged, and on his face a thick, white scar traveled from just above his right eyelid down to the edge of his cheekbone. Lily watched with incredulity as Sirius led him somberly to the end of the Gryffindor table and helped him into his seat.

"What in Merlin's name happened to him?" breathed Mary, mirroring Lily's expression of amazement.

"I don't know…" Lily tarried off, shaking her head. "He wasn't at patrol yesterday." She glanced once again at James, noting his pale complexion and the way his jaw was clamped stiffly. He was staring straight at the stretch of wall in front of him with a blank expression on his face. "He looks awful," she whispered, and Mary nodded in agreement.

"Looks like he's been to hell and back," Mary observed. "I wonder what happened."

"He must have fallen off his broomstick or something," Lily surmised, glancing at the staff table. Minerva McGonagall was looking at James with an odd mixture of worry, frustration, and suspicion.

"The season doesn't start until next month, though," Mary reminded Lily.

"Yeah, but it's James," Lily pointed out. "He basically lives on his broom."

Mary nodded. Then, her expression darkened. "Look who's arrived," she muttered to Lily.

Lily looked up. Martha Addison had arrived in the Great Hall, taken one look at James's condition, and, with a nauseatingly exaggerated cry of anguish, caught him up in a tight embrace, almost knocking Sirius to the floor in the process.

Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Well, he must actually like her if he's willing to put up with all that," said Mary, shuddering slightly as Martha heaved a huge, fake sob and buried her face into James's shoulder.

There were several beats of silence. Lily watched as Martha began to feed James bites of sausage from her fork. Then, she quickly averted her gaze, putting down her own fork and climbing to her feet. "Or, maybe he's desperate," she said quietly to Mary, "because he finally realized that the person he'd been asking out for the past three years of his life was never going to accept."

"Where are you going?" Mary asked, as Lily hitched her bang up to her shoulder and began walking towards the Entrance Hall.

"Charms," Lily called over her shoulder. "It's nearly nine."

Sidling past crowds of Gryffindor students, Lily managed to disentangle herself from the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall and make her way into the quiet Entrance Hall. She was just about to ascend the marble staircase, when someone grabbed her shoulder. Lily's stomach dropped and she swiveled around, drawing her wand. Severus Snape stood in front of her, eyes wide.

"Merlin's beard," mumbled Lily, gripping the banister tightly and taking several steps backwards onto the staircase. "Don't—don't do that!"

"Lily," Severus said urgently. "Lily, can we talk?"

Lily stared at him, filled suddenly with a mixture of anger and incredulity. It had been nearly two years since he had tried to corner her like this. She'd almost forgotten what his voice sounded like.

"Can we go somewhere private?" he was continuing, evidently relieved that Lily hadn't run away at the sight of him. "Anywhere—?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Lily cut in, eyes flashing furiously. She took another step backward. "Have—have you completely lost it?"

"No—Lily—I just want to talk," he pleaded, trying to catch her wrist. Lily jerked away.

"Don't!" she screeched, heart beating violently. She glanced over his shoulder for signs of Mulciber and Avery, Severus's right hand men, notorious for attacking muggle-born students. Lily straightened, glaring at Severus, wand at the ready. "You can't attack me, here. There's a room full of people right next door."

"Lily," Severus breathed, shaking his head in amazement. "I'm not going to attack you. I just want to talk—"

"Where are Mulciber and Avery?" demanded Lily, now several feet away from Severus. "Hiding somewhere behind you? Waiting for you to give them the signal?"

"Lily!" There was a pleading glint in his eye. "I swear—I'm not attacking—" he broke off, trying to step forward, but Lily scrambled up several more stairs, shaking her head furiously.

"Don't come any closer," she said sharply, and Severus froze. "Do you think I honestly didn't notice that you and your little Death Eater pals are up to your elbows in the Dark Arts?" Lily continued, voice dangerously quiet. "Is that your plan? To attack as many muggle-borns as you can at school, and then join—_him_ the moment you graduate?"

Severus opened his mouth, but shut it a moment later, seemingly lost for words.

"I've said it before, but you've chosen your way," Lily told him firmly. "And, it's not the same as mine. Please—don't do this again."

Severus seemed to be rooted to the spot, teetering at the edge of speech that Lily knew would never come. A sudden movement behind Severus's shoulder caught her attention, and she drew her wand, bracing herself for the appearance of Mulciber or Avery, but—

"Lily?"

Lily stared in surprise. Reginald Cattermole stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, clutching his bang with an odd expression on his face. He glanced from Severus to Lily cautiously. "Is everything all right?"

At that very moment, the bell for classes went off with a clang. "Everything's fine," Lily said shortly, looking away from Severus and Reginald, ascending the last few steps to the top of the landing, and setting off for the Charms classroom, a sharp twinge still lingering in her chest.

The rest of the day passed in its usual fashion. Lily suffered through classes with Mary and Alice, gossiped with Dorcas at lunch, studied with Marlene in the library, and managed to avoid further uncomfortable run-ins with both Severus and Reginald, much to her gratification. Nonetheless, when she and Marlene finally collapsed into their habitual armchairs by the Gryffindor common room's fireplace after a particularly long evening of studying at the the library, Lily couldn't help but feel a strange numbness within her that she knew didn't have much to do with the Transfiguration essay she had just spent an hour perfecting.

Marlene stared at her curiously. "Are you all right, Lily? You look a little pale."

Lily looked at her, swallowing heavily and trying not to think about the way Severus had tried to grab her hand. She shuddered slightly, remembering the way her heart at stuttered to a stop at the thought of Mulciber or Avery coming to attack her. "I—I'm fine," she lied.

Marlene nodded slowly, and Lily glanced down at her watch. It was a quarter to twelve—nearly time for her patrol. Lily sighed.

Just then, the portrait hole clicked open. Lily jerked up, surprised. The common room was empty, and Lily had assumed that everyone was safely tucked in their beds, asleep. But, then, Remus Lupin sidled in through the opening, looking more exhausted than Lily had ever seen him before. Through the dim light, Lily could just make out several, faint scars that were sprinkled across his forehead. She frowned. "Remus?"

Remus jumped violently, swinging around. When he caught sight of Lily, he blew out a deep breath. "Oh—it's you two."

Lily's frowned deepened. "Who were you expecting?"

"No one," said Remus quickly. "Listen, you haven't seen James, have you?"

"I expect he's asleep," said Lily dully, wrinkling her nose. "McGonagall's excused him from patrol for the next week since he banged himself up so badly practicing Quidditch yesterday evening, remember?"

Remus's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah," Lily said, frowning. "She told him in class today. Weren't you there?"

Remus shook his head, a frantic flicker crossing his expression for a moment. "I wasn't in classes today. I was—at home."

"Oh—_oh_." Lily's expression softened. She felt a pang of sympathy for Remus. "Is your mother ill again?" she asked gently.

"I—yeah," Remus said distractedly.

"I'm sorry, Remus." Lily sighed. She glanced at Marlene, waiting for the other girl to offer her condolences as well, but Marlene was gazing at Remus intently, her jaw very stiff, a sign Lily had long since determined to mean that she was deep in thought. Lily raised her eyebrows. "Marlene?"

Marlene turned to Lily, expression still hard. "What's the date today?" she asked unexpectedly.

Lily stared. "I—er—it's the twenty-eighth of Septem—"

"So yesterday was the twenty-seventh?" she interjected sharply, turning to stare intently Remus, who looked thoroughly unsettled by Marlene's behavior. Lily couldn't blame him.

"Marlene—?" began Lily nervously.

"I'm going to bed," she announced suddenly. "I'll see you later."

Lily gaped, open-mouthed, as Marlene grabbed her bag and sprinted up the staircase to the dormitories. She turned to Remus, completely disconcerted. "I—sorry, I have no idea what that was."

But, Remus was frowning at the spot Marlene had disappeared. Lily stared at him, startled to see a distinct glint of fear in his brown eyes. Then—"I'm going to go see if James is all right," he said quietly; with that, he too left the room.

And, Lily was left alone in the common room, feeling peculiarly empty.

* * *

SORRY ABOUT THE RE-POST. But I realized yesterday that I had only posted half the chapter, so here is the edited (and longer) chapter. There is some important information y'all would have missed out on if I hadn't re-posted this.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

Scream

* * *

Throughout the next week, and much to Lily's utter astonishment and incredulity, Remus Lupin's and James Potter's friendship began to suffer greatly. It became an increasingly rare sight to see the two of them together. They never sat together at meals, they rarely sat within the other's vicinity in their classes, and Lily would often arrive at the common room in the evenings to find the two of them having a vociferous, bitter argument by the fireplace.

Lily began to wonder what had caused the pair to experience such a sudden and resentful falling-out. The last time she had spoken to Remus was on that one evening in the common room, nearly a week previous, during which Lily and Marlene had encountered him stumbling into the Gryffindor common room, looking inexplicably exhausted. And, Lily very clearly remembered him asking asked to know where James was. Though, he had looked quite upset, and, if Lily remembered correctly, a little nervous.

For some reason, Lily couldn't help but feel rather sympathetic towards the abruptness of the quarrel. Neither Sirius Black nor Peter Pettigrew seemed to know what to make of the sudden hostility. Remus rarely fought with anyone, much less his friends. It was usually Sirius and James who endured such embittered disagreements. In fact, Lily vaguely remembered a period of time, during her sixth year of Hogwarts, during which Sirius and James had stopped speaking, altogether. Now, however, Sirius seemed desperate for his friends to reach a tactful reconciliation, and, as a result, he spent most of his free time hopping from Remus to James, trying—in vain—to initiate a treaty of sorts.

And, Lily—despite her loathing for Sirius Black—couldn't help but admire his efforts.

But, as concerned as Lily was for the poor state of Remus' and James' friendship, Lily was facing similar problems of her own.

Ever since that same evening on which Marlene and Lily had last spoken to Remus, Marlene had become peculiarly aloof and distant. She had begun spending copious amounts of time in the library alone, and was refusing to study with Lily in the evenings, as she had before. She was exhausting more and more time buried under her books, and Lily couldn't help but notice the large, purplish bags that had started to appear under the fair-haired girl's eyes. To top it all off, Marlene had begun sleeping so late into the mornings that she often stumbled into her classes half-an-hour late, much to the fury of her teachers.

Lily was very worried, as were Mary, Alice, and Dorcas. Marlene had never acted so strangely before. Usually, she could be counted on to be the most systematic and down-to-earth of Lily's four closest friends. Lately, however, she had begun floating farther and farther away from her usual levelheadedness.

But, as much as Lily wanted to discover Marlene's motive for acting so bizarrely, Lily couldn't get the other girl to open up. As a result, Lily began throwing herself deeper and deeper into her classes and patrols, in a feverish attempt to push all conflicts to the side.

One evening, Lily sauntered up to the Boys' Dormitories to retrieve James for their first patrol together since the latter's Quidditch injury. She was just about to open the door, her hand simply inches away from the brass doorknob, when raised voices from within the room itself caught her attention. Frowning slightly, Lily leaned forward to listen.

"—moon's in three weeks, and—I don't care what you say, Remus—you're not doing it alone!" snapped James. Lily pictured him pacing swiftly down the room, fists clenched in anger.

"Have you taken a look at your face, James?" countered Remus, and Lily was startled to hear a note of panic in his tone. She sidled a little closer to the door, tilting her head so that her face was only a few inches away from the timber paneling.

"My face is fine, Remus!"

There was a loud, shuffling noise. Then, James yelped in pain.

"See, it's not fine!" exclaimed Remus, drawing a sharp breath. "You've hurt yourself badly, James, and it was my fault—and, I'm not going to let it happen again!"

Lily's frown deepened. James' injury couldn't have been Remus' fault. He hadn't even been at Hogwarts that evening; he had been at home, visiting his ailing mother.

"Remus—!"

"It's not safe anymore," interjected Remus sharply. "People are figuring it out, James. Marlene Goodwin's been treating me like rubbish ever since that evening, and it's only a matter of time before she tells someone!"

"It's not her secret to tell—!" James broke off. Someone else had begun muttering something very quietly; Lily pressed her ear flush against the wooden door, straining to comprehend what was being said.

But, then, all of a sudden, the door itself was yanked open, and Lily fell, headlong, onto the threshold with a strangled cry of shock. Straightening quickly, she glanced around the room, gasping heavily. Remus and James stood in the center of the dormitory, their faces just inches apart. James was considering Lily, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Remus, however, was looking horrified.

Sirius stood by the door, frowning at Lily with a distinctly accusatory glint in his eyes. Peter was perched on his bed, eyes wide, as he glanced from Lily to his friends. In his hands, he held a rumpled, square-shaped sheet of parchment.

A long, uncomfortable silence seemed to unfold over the five inhabitants of the dormitory, during which Lily determinedly avoided catching anyone's gaze. Eventually, however, she cleared her throat, swallowing heavily. "I—"

"How long were you standing there?"

Lily jerked upright in surprise, staring around. Sirius had stepped forward, his eyes narrowing uncharacteristically.

"I—what?" asked Lily, breath catching in her throat.

"Don't play dumb," snapped Sirius, and Lily gaped at him, taken aback. "We all know you were eavesdropping." He stood a mere three of four inches away now, arms crossed menacingly. Lily took a step back, heart hammering madly. "How much did you hear, Evans?" he demanded.

"I—no—!"

With a low, dog-like growl of fury, Sirius drew himself up to his full—and undeniably tall—height, glaring ferociously down at Lily. "Don't lie to me, Evans—!"

"Oy!"

Lily's gaze snapped to the right. James had stepped forward, frowning at Sirius. "Don't yell at her, Padfoot," he said sharply.

There was a long, tense moment, during which James and Sirius had a silent, heated argument, hands curling into fists. Finally, still-scowling, Sirius retreated into the shadows, muttering mutinously under his breath.

Lily released a soft breath. She glanced at Remus. His face was a deathly shade of white, and he was determinedly avoiding Lily's gaze. Then, without warning, he snatched up his cloak from his bed, and swept out of the room, leaving Lily's robes fluttering about her ankles.

An uneasy silence settled, once again, in the atmosphere, punctuated only by Sirius' mumbling and Peter's soft squeaks of what Lily could only assume to be nervousness. Then, James cleared his throat.

"Let's go, Evans," he said quietly.

Lily looked up at him, surprised. "Go?"

"Well," he raised an eyebrow. "You're here for patrol, right?"

A wave of embarrassment swept over her. In all of the commotion and unpleasantness, she had completely forgotten _why_ exactly she had climbed all the way up to James's dormitory in the first place. "Of course," she said quickly.

James gave her an odd look. Then, he glanced at Sirius, who glared back. "See you," he told him, and Sirius merely grunted in response. Then, with a quick nod in Peter's direction, he exited the dormitory, leaving Lily to hurry out after him.

Lily caught up with James as the he exited the portrait hole. She threw him a fleeting, sideways glance, biting her lip. She was apprehensively awaiting the explosion. She was waiting for James to round on her, and demand to know why she had been eavesdropping. Lily shook her head. Why _had_ she been so stupid? It was not-at-all like her usual self to linger outside closed doors to gather information.

Sighing softly, Lily glanced nervously up at James again. But, his expression was casual, his stance quite even. Lily frowned.

They had nearly reached the third floor landing, but there was still no outburst from James. Not able to bear the silence any longer, Lily took a deep breath and began, "Potter—"

"Well, if it isn't our lovely Head Girl, Miss Lily Evans."

Lily spun around slowly, groaning. Surely it wasn't who she thought it was. Surely it wasn't.

But, as luck would have it, Lily found herself coming face-to-face with with a pair of twinkling, blue eyes. "Hello, Cattermole," she said stiffly. She cast a half-glance in James' direction. He was staring from Reginald to Lily, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Please," he winked mysteriously down at her, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Call me Reg."

Lily shook her head, glancing down at her watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty. "What are you doing out so late, Cattermole?" she asked sharply. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James meander slowly off towards the third floor corridor by himself, humming softly. "It's well past curfew."

"Detention with Slughorn, again," shrugged Reginald, with a careless wave of his hand. He had suddenly begun gazing, quite seriously, down at Lily, and she was staring to feel a little uneasy. James had disappeared completely. "Listen—"

"Make it quick, Cattermole," she said impatiently. "I'm on patrol, and I'm not going to hesitate to take points away from you, this time."

Reginald bit his lip, looking slightly miffed, and Lily felt a twinge of guilt for berating him. There was a short pause. Then—"Never mind," Reginald said quickly, shaking his head. "It was—nothing."

And, before Lily could say a word, he had sped down the landing and up the nearby staircase.

Lily watched him go, mouth ajar. Then, with a little shake of her head, she hurried off in the opposite direction, unable to understand why her stomach had dropped at the sight of Reginald Cattermole running away from her. Panting slightly, she swung around the third floor corridor, squinting around for a sign of James Potter. Suddenly, she caught sight of a speck of black at the far end of the hallway. She sighed in relief.

"Potter!" she called, voice cracking slightly as she flew down the corridor. The speck of black halted in its tracks. "Potter, wait up!"

She was only about fifteen feet away from him now. But, as she black-haired boy spun slowly around, Lily knew immediately it wasn't James. She came to an unsteady halt, nearly toppling over her own feet in the staggering shock of the moment. Then, she straightened quickly, eyes widening.

"Lily?" the boy asked, eyes equally wide.

"Sev—Severus?" Lily demanded, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

He shook his head fervently. "Lily, you've got to get back to your common room, _now_."

Lily glared at him.

"I would love to, Severus—believe me, I'm in no mood to stop and chat," she snapped. "But, I've got to patrol the corridors for two more hours." She swiveled around, and began striding back up the corridor. "Ten points from Slytherin!" she called over her shoulder. "For being out of bed after hours!"

"Lily!" Severus yelled after her, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. "Listen to me! You've got to get to your common room, now!" Lily frowned to herself, continuing to pace determinedly up the corridor. "Lily, please—please listen to me!"

Still-scowling, Lily swung around the corner, returning to the third floor landing. It had been a strange evening. First Cattermole, then Severus…but, where was James? She had still not laid eyes on the Head Boy. But, how far could he have gone? Lily had only conversed with Reginald Cattermole for a matter of seconds. James ought to have been the one on that corridor, instead of Severus. Unless…

Lily slowed in her step as a pang of horror shot through her. It was a horrible thought, but…Severus had always hated James Potter. What if Severus had done something to him? Cursed him, or hexed him, or locked him in a broom cupboard?

Slowly, she turned back around. Perhaps, she ought to go back. Perhaps, she ought to go and confront Severus.

Lily shook her head. She was being stupid. Even Severus would know better than to attack the Head Boy during a patrol. But, would he, really…?

Biting her lip, Lily glanced from one end of the landing to the other, contemplating her next move.

But, before she could utter a single syllable, two pairs of hands had grabbed her roughly around her shoulders.

"What—?" she gasped, struggling for her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" growled a voice, and Lily's wand flew out of her cloak and out of sight.

Lily's gaze snapped to her left, then to her right. Ignus Mulciber and Garrett Avery stood on either side of her, grinning toothily. Lily's stomach dropped, and she inhaled sharply, horrified.

"'Evening, _Mudblood_," leered Mulciber, his grip on her shoulder tightening. Lily winced.

"Mulciber," she spat in return, struggling to her extract her arm from his formidable grip.

"Don't try and escape," sneered Avery. "We've got you, good."

Lily glared at him.

"Bet you're wishing you listened to Snape's warning, now, aren't you?" Mulciber wheedled, his cold, sticky fingers brushing her cheek. Lily shivered, disgusted. "Well, it's too bad you didn't. Now, we're going to teach you what happens when a Mudblood tries to take points away from Slyther—" he broke off unexpectedly, straightening, and Lily was pleased to see a distinct glint of fear in his eyes.

"What's the matter, Mulciber?" she snarled, trying in vain to pull herself away from the burly, troll-like Slytherin seventh years. "Too scared to continue?"

"Shut your mouth," Avery said harshly, squeezing her shoulder so tightly that his nails dug into her skin. Lily flinched. "What's the matter, Mulciber?" Avery echoed nervously. "Is someone—?" he too stopped short, eyes widening.

And, suddenly, Lily heard it, too. A thundering of footsteps was ringing down the nearby corridor. Lily stiffened, raising her head.

"We've got to get her out of here," Mulciber said in a low voice, and, without another word, he and Avery began dragging her up the landing and towards the staircase.

Panic was rising up in her like bile. What could she do? How could she escape? She was wand-less and at their complete mercy.

So, with a deep breath, Lily did the only thing she could think of.

She screamed.

A terrible, bloodcurdling scream. Avery gasped slightly, releasing her right shoulder. But, Mucliber, eyes flashing angrily, silenced her with a flick of her wand. The footsteps were growing louder, now. Lily reached desperately, arm flailing, towards the edge of the corridor.

The last things she saw before she was swallowed up by darkness were James Potter's terrified, hazel eyes.

* * *

And on that happy note…

HELLO, EVERYONE! I'm sorry it's been a while, but it took a while to get the ball rolling for this chapter. Sorry it's dark, but this is during the height of a war, so it's not always going to be terribly cheery.

Thank y'all so much for reading! You're amazing, and I love you so much!

Yours sincerely,  
Alohamora


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